Countdown
by The Congressman
Summary: Elliot Stabler has lost his memory, lacking any inkling of his life. Lost in the middle of New York City with strange persons intent on doing him harm, he turns to the one person he can trust, Olivia Benson, his friend and former flame. Together, they strive to reconnect and deal with the web of lies and deceit that threatens to destroy everything they hold dear; EO; AU set in 1969
1. Chapter 1: Awake

**A/N: Hello everyone. I hope all of you had a happy Thanksgiving with your family and friends. Mine was quiet but nice; our family had a nice steak dinner since we prefer that to turkey. Our little tradition I guess. **

**So, here's the moment you've all been waiting for, my new EO story. While some of you might be turned off by the historical aspect, I have two assurances. One, it's set in 1969 so things won't be too outlandish rather than doing something in the middle ages for example. Second, this story will primarily be about Liv and El and their relationship as they try and solve the crisis. The history serves as merely a backdrop and to establish a conflict.**

**I will strive to make things as accurate as possible, though some small liberties will be taken to fit in with the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of SVU, nor do I own the history books. This isn't 1984 and I'm not the Ministry of Truth. If I was though…**

**This story is dedicated to Stabson, whose amazing stories helped me improve my writing skills dramatically. If you haven't read her stories Shattered or Clash, do so immediately.**

**Note: I know all of you want an update for Prey, but bear with me. It will be out very shortly. Meanwhile, if you haven't read chapters 18 or 19, it would mean so much to me if you did so and left a review :)**

**Note 2: The first little section, read it like you would the background captions in a movie, kind of like the words before Star Wars.**

**Five, Four, Three, Two, One, liftoff!**

**COUNTDOWN **

**A Story by The Congressman**

Chapter One: Awake

_The year is 1969, and tensions between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics are at their highest levels yet. With the threat of nuclear annihilation looming like a specter over both sides, each nation scrambles to claim the top prize, domination over space._

_Lagging behind for much of the so-called Space Race, by the mid-sixties the United States has caught up. The successful Mercury and Gemini Programs have led to the development of the Apollo Program, whose flight tested Saturn V rocket puts the top prize in sight for the US, putting a man on the moon._

_Meanwhile, the rival superpower is having a tough time of it. Despite early triumphs like Sputnik and Yuri Gagarin's orbit of the Earth, the Soviet Union is now falling behind. With the death of Sergei Korolev, the man behind the nation's early victories, the Soyuz lunar program suffers from countless delays and problems. The leaders of the World's first Socialist state now must face the likelihood that Apollo 11 will reach the moon before Soyuz 7K-L3, dealing a massive humiliation to Soviet power. _

_This is a story of how they decided to even the odds._

_And how two managed to stop them._

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

5 AM, July 13, 1969

The sound of running water made him open his eyes, and he immediately wished he hadn't. There were only a few seconds of early morning grogginess before the pain descended with its full force. He clenched his teeth, willing it to go away but it refused too. There were the dull aches in his joints from not moving for quite some time, a stabbing pain in his back from an awkward sleeping position on the cold, hard floor beneath him, and a persistent banging in his head, a small voice telling him that it was probably a hangover.

'What the hell happened?' he thought, forcing himself to ignore the pain and open his eyes once more. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the light, dim as it was from the florescent lights, but what he found both sickened and shocked him.

He had woken up in a stall in a public restroom, complete with the, strong smell of disinfectant, unwashed floors, discarded paper towels strew everywhere, and the ubiquitous toilet bowl some inconsiderate jerk forgot to flush.

A sudden urge to hurl came over him, mostly from the utter humiliation rather than from the aftereffects of his likely hangover; how he hell did he wind up in a public restroom? What the hell happened to him? Whatever it was had to be very bad. But the dryness of his mouth overcame his nausea; he needed water, and fast.

Rising to his feet, still woozy from sleep, he shuffled to the row of white sinks about a few feet from the stall across the cheap tile floor. Turning on the tap, he quickly cupping the tap water in his palms and sipping. The water was cool to the tongue, allowing the last of the grimy taste and dryness to be banished from his mouth and the grogginess from his mind. At last his brain was more or less awake, and he looked forward to figuring out why the hell he woke up in a public toilet.

Trouble was, he couldn't.

His mind tried to think back, last night, last morning, the day before yesterday. All it found was a blank. He started to panic, attempting to figure out everything he knew about himself. Nothing.

He wanted to cry out in abject fear, he remembered nothing about himself. Not even a name! 'Oh God, I don't even remember my name.'

Looking up into the mirror, a strangled gasp escaped his lips. Looking back at him was a common bum, a wastrel of the worst sort. The hobo was clad in a filthy olive jacket, brown pants, and cheap work boots; his hair was matted, face covered in grime. That bum was him.

'No, it can't be! I can't be him.' If he wasn't so dehydrated tears would have been cascading down his cheeks.

"Who am I?" he said aloud.

A sharp groan from behind him caused him to wheel around. "Fuck!" said a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. "God damn it Elliot!" A man, who was even filthier but clearly in better shape than him rose slowly. "It's too fucking early for this shit!"

Elliot was overjoyed at the hobo's statement. 'Elliot. My name is Elliot.' In a situation like this one clung to anything concrete, no matter how pathetically. He had a name, that was a start.

The other man rose from his pile in the corner, stretching his arms. He was in a tattered tweed jacket, the kind one would likely scrounge from a garbage can in a middle-class neighborhood, and a pair of scruffy shoes, his thick, black hair spiked up. "Jesus H. Fuck I need some water." He stepped toward the sink and took a drink. He looked up, seeing Elliot staring at him. "What the hell's your problem?"

"Who are you?" Elliot asked. For the life of him he couldn't place him; he could recollect the faces of important people, like President Nixon and Governor Rockefeller, but no one that he might have known personally sprang to mind.

"Are you retarded Elliot? I'm Brian, don't you remember?"

Elliot shook his head. "No, I've lost my memory."

The other man, Brian, began laughing uproariously. "Well duh you ol' son of a bitch. After all you drank last night I ain't surprised." He wetted his hand and ran it through his hair. "Drank a whole bottle of Vodka; didn't leave nothin' for me."

The revelation nearly made Elliot's knees buckle. Apparently he was a drunken bum who slept in public restrooms. This was unbelievable. He took another good look at himself in the mirror. Staring closely at the reflection, he noticed his eyes were a clear, cerulean blue, and is nose didn't have the exposed veins of chronic alcoholism. So if he was one it must have been recent. A small scar was on his temple, looking like a gash that had healed long ago. His brown hair was unruly but showed evidence of being cut recently. Also, his facial hair was an even stubble, indicating he did shave. Instead of calming him it only made him more confused as to this whole mess.

"Fuck, I'm starving!" Brian announced to no one in particular. "Let's get out of here." He moved to leave.

"Wait," Elliot called out. He had so many questions. "What's my last name?"

"Do I look like the fucking DMV? How the hell should I know?" This guy grated on Elliot's nerves with his constant cursing and apparent arrogance, but he took a deep breath to calm himself, for Brian was the only person who knew him.

He checked his pockets, searching for any money he could have carried. Aside for some lint there was nothing, no money, no wallet, not even a handkerchief. "I must be broke," he murmured to himself.

"What a brilliant observation Einstein," Brain quipped, laughing at his own lame pun.

Elliot wasn't listening, too caught up in his confused thoughts. "How did this," he gestured to himself "Happen?"

Before Brian could respond a small man in formal attire of a minor official pushed open the restroom door, only to be taken aback at the two men in front of him. "You two aren't supposed to be here," he shouted angrily. "Get out before I get the police!"

"We're going man, hold your horses," Brian replied, motioning Eliot to follow him out the door.

"The last thing I need are street trash like you messing up my station. Now get!" He shoved Elliot roughly.

With lightning reflexes, Elliot swung around and clamped the official's hand in his own, squeezing roughly. The man's face morphed from one of anger into one of fear. "We're going you little prick, so that's unnecessary," Elliot growled menacingly. The official, wearing a uniform that wasn't a cop's nodded and scurried off, his face white.

"Calm down buddy," Brian cautioned. "Let's go, come on."

Elliot felt bad. Sure, the guy was an asshole and could learn to treat people better but he did sleep in the damn toilet. The guy had every right to want him gone. He reasoned that he did have a good sense of right and wrong, so he wasn't a robber or a rapist; Elliot was comforted in that fact.

"So where are we?" he asked Brian, taking a look around. The building was quite large, a polished stone foyer surrounded by schedules and columns. Large, glass windows let in the early morning sun while a few people traversed the three staircases directly under it. There was a large four sided clock, reading 5:24 AM, a large, barrel vault painted green forming the ceiling. It all looked vaguely familiar.

"You sure you didn't hit your head last night?" Brian asked. Elliot just shrugged. "We're in Grand Central Station, New York, New York.

Ah, so that's what it was. He recognized it, but not from memory which was completely blank.

"Those two! They're the ones!" Elliot heard a voice shout behind him.

"Uh oh," said Brian, starting to run. Elliot looked over to see the small man, likely a Transit Authority official, point him out to two burly cops. 'Fuck!' Elliot bolted as well.

Grand Central was mostly empty at this time of day, aiding both Elliot in giving him a clear line of flight, while doing the same for the cops. Booking for the exit as fast as his legs could handle, Elliot dodged and weaved through what people were there, earning and few curses and indignant shouts. He looked over his shoulder. The two cops had split up, one going off in another direction while the other kept after him. However it was clear that Elliot was in much better shape than the transit cop managing to reach the outer doors several dozen paces ahead. He stumbled onto Park Ave, waiting for the nightstick to come down on his shoulder of the sound of cuffs being put on his wrists. But nothing came, the cop probably deciding it wasn't worth it to keep up the chase. They got him out, that was what mattered.

Taking a few seconds to compose himself, Elliot stood and began to take in his surroundings. "So where now…" He then noticed that Brian was gone; they must have lost each other running from the police. "Well good going Elliot, you just lost the one person who knows your name." Deciding it wasn't worth beating himself up any more, he shoved his hands in his pocket and began walking. He needed to clear his thoughts.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

_The smell of the cool sea breeze was quite calming to her. Used to the hustle and bustle of city life, the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing onto the beach was an unusual sound to her, but a pleasant one. For the first time in quite a while, what with the demands of her new job and the pressures of living alone, she was happy, truly happy._

_The soft patter of feet behind her attested that she was no longer alone on the balcony. She smiled, joy flooding through her at her companion being here. "Have you ever seen a more majestic sight?" she said without turning around, taking in the falling sun as it filled the sky with vibrant swaths of color. "Isn't it beautiful?"_

"_Not as beautiful as the sight before me." She turned, catching him eying her over, a relaxed grin on his face and love in his eyes. It made her melt. "Nope, not nearly as beautiful."_

_She blushed, unsure of whether she deserved his praise but ecstatic that of all the women out there he had chosen her to love. "What about the sight now before me?" Taking the liberty of observing his bare chest and masculine physique, she licked her lips. "Very nice."_

_He raised an eyebrow. "Very nice? That's all you can say?"_

_She batted her eyes coyly. "Well, what else could I say?"_

_Growling, he advanced over and swept her in his arms bridal style, her letting out a happy squeal. "I would tell you what you could say, but it would be better to show you." Before she could respond, he mashed his lips on hers; the kiss quickly deepened as she forced her tongue into his mouth, both of them moaning. Nestled in his strong arms, hers wrapped around his neck, he carried her to bed and threw her down. Giggling, she smiled saucily at him as he climbed on top of her. She closed her eyes and purred as he kissed her neck, the most intense sort of joy filling her completely. "I love you," she breathed, not wanting him to stop. _

_But stop he did; she was about to let out a groan of protest before her eyes fluttered open and found his staring into them. Blue gazed at brown. "I love you too, so much." She swore her heart was about to burst._

"Gooood Morning New York!" The sound of the clock radio beside her bed nearly made her jump out of bed. "It is 6 AM on the beautiful date of July 13th. In news, all eyes are on Cape Canaveral as Apollo 11 makes its final preparations for launch just two days from now. President Nixon has stated that this is a momentous…"

With a flick of her wrist (more like a slam on second glance), Olivia Benson turned off her morning wakeup call. She flopped back into bed, her head making a soft whump as it hit the pillows. She was awake, but her mind was still woozy and disoriented from the dream.

'The dream.'

That very same dream struck again, invading her subconscious like it did almost every night for the last decade and a half. Olivia could never forget that night, the night when she last felt loved.

'Stop this Olivia, stop torturing yourself,' she thought, berating her very mind. 'It's over, it will never happen again. He's happy with her, just be happy for him.' She was a strong woman; it was one of the things she had striven to be for her entire life. Ever since it ended all those years ago, she had resolved to be strong, to always be strong and move on with her life.

Yet if Olivia really sought to think about it, she would find that she hadn't moved on. Her subconscious knew what she was too stubborn to admit. Every last thought all went back to one person and one person only. "Elliot," she whispered, not even realizing she did.

"Mommy."

Olivia's eyes flew open at the soft voice coming from across the apartment. It was coming from the one joy she had left in her hard life besides her work. Grunting, she swung her feet out of the bed, rubbing the last traces of sleep from her eyes. "Mommy's coming princess. Mommy's coming." 'Back to the daily grind.'

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

To someone who wasn't a resident, New York City could have doubled for the Labyrinth of Greek Mythology. One could easily get lost in the middle of its super-urban landscape, hence the well-deserved nickname "The Concrete Jungle."

To Elliot however, it didn't matter that he never had been here before (even if he did there was no way of knowing). He really had no place to go, so he spent the better part of the last two hours wandering the streets, his mind deep in thought.

He looked out into the street several blocks south of Grand Central, now packed with a mass of people and a throng of vehicles going about their morning's business. One of those people could be his family or his friends and he had no memory of them. Why did this have to happen to him?

Elliot forced the thought out of his head. If he were going to get out of this he couldn't afford to wallow in self-pity. He was going to have to think his way out.

"Ok, so what do I know?" he though aloud. First of all, that Brian fellow knew his name and claimed to be his companion, but on second glace they didn't seem to be to comfortable with each other. If he were a homeless person, he reasoned, then he would know better than to stay in the vicinity with an unknown person that he couldn't trust.

That brought up another thing. The level of his analysis of the situation proved he wasn't stupid, far from it in fact. He obviously had an education beyond the school of hard knocks from the vocabulary of words he thought with; the revelation comforted him somewhat, though it dredged up another set of questions. If he had an education, how did he end up on the streets? Was there some sort of hard luck story involving losing a job or something of that nature? He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

Up ahead, a rumpled looking man in the clothes of a day laborer removed a flask from his pocket and took a sip. 'Drinking this early in the morning? What a douche.'

His eyes widened as the meaning of his thought processed itself. An alcoholic would have craved booze at all times, not getting disgusted at the sight of it. He took a sniff of his jacket; if he had drank himself into oblivion last night likely some vodka would have splashed on his jacket. Nothing. There was no smell. So he wasn't an alcoholic. 'Thank Christ.'

'Ok, I'm getting somewhere.' So he wasn't an alcoholic and had some sort of higher education. Precious little to go on in this city of nearly eight million people.

With that in mind, Elliot replayed the incident with the Transit Official and the cops. When he grasped the pompous official's hand it had been expertly done, not just relying on muscle alone. Plus he ran like a champion sprinter, barely breaking a sweat. So he was very fit with advanced training, maybe military or police?

Police? Maybe he was on some sort of missing person's list. It may not have been much but it was a start. They likely had access to records that could lead to family or friends, someone who knew him. He just had to find the nearest precinct. It may not have been much of a plan but it was a plan nonetheless.

Rounding the intersection, he spotted a police cruiser parked on the sidewalk of a mostly quiet side street. His hopes soaring, Elliot watched as a uniformed officer ducked under a broken chain-link fence, out of a vacant lot, zipping his fly as he did so. 'Most likely took a pit stop.'

"Excuse me.," Elliot said, trying best not to sound like a degenerate.

The cop looked straight at him, as if to size up the new arrival. "What?" he asked gruffly.

"Could you tell me how to get to the nearest precinct?"

"In the back of my squad car with a bloody nose if you don't get the fuck out of my sight," the cop growled back. He had sandy blond hair and a heavyset jaw, the look of a brawler. He was bad news.

Elliot however was not one to back down (another thing he realized about himself). "Look officer, I don't want any trouble. I just want to know where the nearest precinct is."

"And I'm not going to tell you again Shitbrain, fuck off."

Fists clenching by his sides, Elliot's blood began to boil. 'Who does he think he is?' "Buddy, I'm asking nicely. Are you hard of hearing, or did mommy drop you as a baby?" 'Wow, where did that come from?''

With a grunt of anger, the cop grabbed Elliot by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him on the ground. He felt a sharp pain in his elbow, it having likely cut and bruised on the hard pavement.

"Looks like I'm going to have to teach you a little lesson in manners dumbass." He strode forward and kicked Elliot in the stomach, a sadistic smirk on his face.

"Come on Sid, leave the poor guy alone." Looking up, the kick not fazing him, Elliot spotted someone else step out of the lot. It was a petite brunette sporting a flimsy tank top and skirt, cheap lipstick plastered to her lips. When the woman began straightening her skirt, which had been hiked up her hips, it all clicked in Elliot's mind. The cop had been getting serviced by this woman. She must have been a prostitute. "What he do to you?"

"Did I tell you that you could talk bitch?" the cop, Sid, said, slapping her backhanded.

A fury burning in his eyes, a switch clicked inside Elliot's brain. Using his foot he kicked the cop in the knee, not enough to break the bone but enough to restrict his movement.

Sid cried out in pain, the prostitute and several passersby watching with wide eyes. Deciding not to rest on his laurels, Elliot sprang up with an agility that surprised even him and grabbed the cop's uniform and held him in place. He jerked his head forward, ramming his head into the cop's nose, hearing a satisfying crunch as the nose broke.

Blood covering his now busted face, Sid's eyes were red with rage as he recovered. "Now you're going to get it motherfucker." He sent a right hook at Elliot's face but with a smooth motion his left hand rose and parried the cop's jab as his right arm thrust underneath and wrapped around his neck. He pressed the cop's neck with his fingers, moving his left hand to clasp his right catching Sid in a chokehold. "This'll teach you not to mess with women _Shitbrain_," he hissed in the cop's ear, jerking.

Sid collapsed to the ground, Elliot grabbing the man's revolver, opening the chamber and dumping the shells.

The hooker stared, half-stunned, half-fearful. "Is he dead?"

"Nah, asshole's just unconscious." The enormity of what he just did suddenly dawned on Elliot. What the hell was that, and where did he learn it?

The woman's expression changed from fear to amusement. "Come on," she said, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away as fast as she could (which was quite fast considering her stiletto heels).

When they were a block away from the scene, she began to laugh. "Man!" she slapped Elliot hard on the back. "I ain't never seen someone take old Sydney down like that. Nice job!"

"Thanks." Elliot allowed himself a small simile. "What's your name?"

"Passion," she answered. Elliot raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Fine, I'm Gladys Dalton."

Elliot's expression softened. "Nice to meet you Gladys."

"So what's your name? And don't tell me it's Knight in Shining Armor."

He snorted. "I'm Elliot, but I have no idea what my surname is. I lost my memory."

Gladys clicked her tongue. "I knew there were people out there worse off than I am." She heard his stomach grumble. "Let me take you to get something to eat."

"No, no," Elliot tried to stop her. He didn't want to mooch off anyone. "You don't have to."

"Least I could do for what you did back there. Besides, I know someone who could be of help to someone like you."

"But I have no idea who I am. What if I'm someone bad like that asshole back there."

"Honey," said Gladys, patting his arm. "When you spend as much time as I have on the streets, you get a sixth sense of these kinds of things. Believe me, you are a rare species, a descent guy."

He smiled sheepishly; she may have been a complete stranger, but he did feel oddly comforted by what she said. 'What the hell,' Elliot thought. 'It's not like I have anywhere else to go.'

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

The semitropical sun bathed the hotel room in a sort of ethereal glow, but Kathy Stabler wasn't in the mood to notice. Lying on her back, she stared at the ceiling thinking about Elliot, her husband. Her heart ached with worry for his safety, for he had been gone for quite a while.

The last time she spoke to him was yesterday morning, right before lunch. It had been all business, but she had no regrets; Elliot wasn't the romantic type, she knew. One had to look at the little things, and as a result she knew he loved her. The converse was clearly true. The last five years had been the happiest of her life.

In the last 20 years, thanks to the establishment of the John F. Kennedy Space Center Brevard County, Florida had experienced an economic and population boom, the county growing from around 23 thousand to over 200 thousand in that short interval. This hotel was one of dozens that sprang up to cater to the increase in both tourism and jobs; it was currently packed with onlookers here to witness Apollo 11 take off in two days. 'Well, I guess you can count me in that category,' Kathy thought.

Her worries getting the best of her, Kathy picked up the phone near her bed in the plush suite (it might have been a bit fancy but she could afford it) and dialed her friend in Washington, Fin Tutuola. If anyone knew where Elliot was it would be him; after all, those two had been best friends in college, their reputation notorious in the Harvard campus while she was at neighboring Radcliffe.

_Ring, ring, ring_. "Come on damn it," she muttered, twirling her long, blonde hair with her fingers. "Pick up Fin."

"_Hello, the person you have reached is not here at this time…"_

"Shit." Kathy set down the phone and headed into the bathroom, deciding a good, hot shower was what she needed.

The warm spray was like heaven as it hit her shoulder, the water cascading over her as she began to rub shampoo and conditioner in her hair.

About fifteen minutes later, she put the last touches on her makeup. Dabbing a little rouge on her cheeks, not too much but not too little just as her mother taught her, she puckered her lips and applied a very light red lipstick. Drawing back, she admired the figure in the mirror, a small smirk appearing on her lips. With long blonde hair, peaches and cream complexion, and the body to rival Elizabeth Taylor's Kathy knew she packed a hell of a punch. While she always liked to point out her top credentials (a math degree from Radcliffe and a Master's Degree in the same subject from MIT) were what kept her in the high position she had in the Apollo Program, she knew that a first impression always came down to looks.

The smirk soon morphed into a frown as Elliot popped into her mind again. Just the thought of him not being here made her heart break. She had loved him ever since they met back in college two decades ago, the fire never dimming no matter how long it had been. 'Oh how young they were,' she thought, reminiscing. Back in those days they had all been so innocent, so blind to the real workings of the world; a small part of Kathy wished she could go back to those days, back when all that needed to be concerned about were class assignments and what to wear on dates.

Kathy shook her head, banishing the thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time for idle musing. It had been 29 minutes since she called Fin. 29, a prime number, not interesting except for the fact that 29 plus 2x² were also prime numbers up to x+28. She sighed, nerves calming like they always did when she played number games in her head.

Grabbing the phone she dialed Fin again, again getting no response. "Damn it!" she screeched, setting herself down on the bed with a huff. 'What the hell was going on?'

**A/N: I know what you're thinking, that it left you with more questions than answers, but trust me. I know exactly where I'm going and everything will come out as the story progresses. You are in for quite the thrill ride.**

**So, other than that, there's chapter one. I hope ya'll enjoyed it :) **

**The move Elliot used on the cop is called a side choke and it is one of the standard hand-to-hand moves taught in the Marine Corps.**

**On a historical note, the real launch was scheduled for July 16****th****, 1969, but for the purposes of the story I'm changing it to July 15****th**** for reasons you'll see later (it's fiction after all).**

**Another note, the story will be primarily set in 1969, but there will be periodic flashbacks to explore how Elliot and Olivia's relationship developed over the years. The next chapter will be one such flashback to their college days at Harvard. Hope to see all of you guys then :)**

**Please review both this and chapter 19 of Prey :) **

**God Bless**


	2. Chapter 2: Fast Times at Harvard

**A/N: Hi all. All my exams are done, thank the Good Lord. Now Christmas break has started and I couldn't be happier :) **

**There has been an amazing response to this story. Thank you to all who reviewed :)**

**Anyway, this is the awaited update, but for those of you who wanted to know what happens to Elliot I'm afraid you'll have to wait. This chapter will be one of many flashback chapters, and I hope it sheds some light on a few things.**

**Note: For purposes that will soon be demonstrated, assume that the characters are taking summer courses at the university. Back in those days, the men went to Harvard while the women went to Radcliffe in the same city.**

**Note two: The career desires will be ooc, but I will try to keep their personalities in character. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own SVU, much as it pains me to say it.**

**This chapter is for TessiLovesSVU, whose birthday is today. I'd like to think of this as my present :)**

**Enjoy and review, and be sure to check out Prey.**

Chapter 2: Fast Times at Harvard

Saturday, June 17, 1950

The café in downtown Cambridge, Massachusetts primarily catered to both the students and faculty of Harvard University and Radcliffe College. The food was hearty and the prices were affordable, and as a result it was usually packed with customers.

"Here you go Kath," said Elliot Stabler, arriving from the counter with a black coffee for him and a cup of tea for his girlfriend.

"Thanks Elliot," said Kathy with a smile, that smile widening as her boyfriend sat in the chair next to hers and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. While all her friends and family had told her all her life that she was attractive, Kathy knew that she was lucky to have the affections of the one and only Elliot Stabler. He was _the_ catch for any Radcliffe girl, and he was hers.

Born into one of the premier Baltimore families, Kathy wished she could have a very classy and romantic story to tell how Elliot and she first met (stares from afar notwithstanding), but the truth as always was a bit embarrassing. It had been about eight months before and, from what Elliot explained afterward, he and a group of other Harvard men from the same dorm were throwing a bachelor party for a friend. They naturally got drunk, and one suggested that they go on a panty raid in the Radcliffe dorms. By sheer chance, though Kathy always thought it was fate, Elliot picked her room to ransack; however, she was sure he didn't count on her walking in from the bathroom in her nightgown.

Kathy had just stared at him, amazed that Elliot Stabler was in her room even for something as asinine as a drunken panty raid. He was wearing a ski mask but she knew it was him; those bulging muscles, expensive but simple tweed jacket, and cerulean blue eyes were a dead giveaway. Smiling, she showed him to her dresser, and still looked on that memory as a good one. Though he stole a pretty expensive pair of lace underwear, he made up for it by asking her on their first date.

She would always remember the exact moment she fell in love with the dashing man who was now by her side. He had taken her to a quiet dinner at an inexpensive restaurant owned by a kindly Boston Irish couple (even though Elliot was an American to the core he still had a fondness for his native soil instilled in him by his immigrant grandfather); when the meal was over he tasteful walked her to the Radcliffe dorms and awkwardly apologized for the, in his words, crass display from the night before. Before she could tell him it was fine, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was completely chaste but otherwise wonderful. Most Harvard men were amateurs when it came to the art of kissing, either trying to suck the other's lips off or so awkward it felt like kissing a statue. But Elliot's was perfect, the right amount of both passion and class. Her heart at that moment was forever his.

He really was the perfect gentleman, compassionate, smart, and loyal to a fault, but there was always the famous Stabler temper to deal with. Anyone who got on his bad side lived to regret it, but there were a few people who weren't fazed. One of them was their lunch companion, a close friend, and a persistent pain in everyone's ass.

"And I'm telling you Elliot," said John Munch, sitting across from them in their usual table. "The United States is going to have a hell of a time if the North Koreans invade." The messy-haired, thick glasses sporting graduate student always was one to push people's buttons; the good natured verbal sparring matches he and Elliot had often went hours at a time. "And believe me, invade they will."

Kathy looked at Elliot, who merely scoffed. Her boyfriend was from a very wealthy and patriotic family, his grandfather fighting in the trenches as an officer during WWI and his father heavily financing in war bonds during WWII. "The North would be crazy to invade." he stated firmly. "Besides, they wouldn't dare try without Stalin's approval, Kim Il Sung being too much a coward to do otherwise."

"Oh Elliot, so naive," the other man said with a smirk. "They ferret out weakness, I should know I was one once." Munch made no secret to his close friends that he was a Communist once, but renounced the party sometime after WWII. Granted, he still sounded too much like Eugene Debs, making it a distinction without a difference. "After Acheson said that Korea wasn't in our sphere of influence he might as well have painted the nation red and told the bull 'Go for it.'"

"That may be," Elliot answered back; he was a bit stubborn, never conceding a fight even if it was going against him. "However, I have confidence in the American fighting man. After all, you were one."

Munch conceded the point. Being older than the rest he had volunteered in his youth to fight in the Israeli War of Independence two years before, and as a result walked around with a limp and a cane.

Deciding to change the subject seeing the semi-haunted look on his friend's face (he had seen it on his grandpa's when the old man told stories about the trenches), Elliot said something surprising. "Anyway, I've finally decided what I'm going to do with my life after Harvard."

That caused a few eyebrows to rise. "Oh really?" asked Munch's young fiancée Alex Cabot, a Radcliffe student like Kathy who had dreams of being a lawyer (a daunting task considering her gender). She was almost the exact opposite of Munch in every way (a bit reserved while the flamboyant Munch often wore white suits and animatedly opined on outlandish subjects), but through some miracle they made it work. "So what do you plan on doing once you graduate?"

"Oh, I know," Munch raised his hand like an eager schoolboy, probably trying to do anything to forget his memories. "You're going to be a banker like your old man; no wait, a detective." Whatever you could say about John Munch, he did have a certain charm that made it hard to hold a grudge past the heat of the moment.

Elliot chuckled warmly. "No, I love my father but the family business is my older brother's forte, not mine. While in different circumstances I'd welcome the chance to help people as a detective, I aim to be a scientist."

"What kind?" asked Kathy, curious. Elliot was a math major like her, but his plans after graduating weren't something he talked about. He often kept his feelings and dreams to himself.

He pointed upward. "The Russian scientist Konstantin Tsiolkovsky once said that 'Earth is the cradle of humanity, but mankind cannot stay in the cradle forever.' I would like to explore the depths of outer space."

Munch laughed. "Space rockets? While that would work in a Jules Verne novel that's the only place one will likely see it."

Kathy glared at him. "Shut up John. You have no idea what you're talking about." Munch had no scientific background; his undergrad major was literature, with his graduate degree in International Affairs.

However, despite his temper Elliot waved off his friend's mocking, if good-natured jibe. "I think it's likely to happen. The Germans developed the V2 rocket after all, and if the US is going to beat the Soviets into space they're going to need top notch scientists."

"True, but you want to help people right? Who's it going to benefit?"

"The benefits of science will improve the lives of everyone John," Elliot replied with conviction in his voice.

Frowning slightly, Kathy shook her head. She loved Elliot to death, but Munch was right; he was a bit too stubborn and idealistic sometimes. "It's not as simple as that Elliot. Most of the benefits of scientific progress here is taken up by the privileged and rich."

"I disagree," he countered, his voice becoming animated to discuss his passion. "Let's take steamships for example. They helped all of society by making quick transoceanic travel possible."

"Tell that to the sailors in the boiler rooms Stabler," said Munch with a cheeky grin.

"Last I checked Munch," replied Elliot with a cheeky grin of his own, "None of them were dying of scurvy or malaria."

"Ok, that's enough of that," a tall figure said, approaching the table. "What's the use about being able to legally drink if you're not going to partake?"

"That's what I've been saying all along Fin, but the old lady here won't let me have any fun." He received a jab in the ribs for that from Alex.

Finlay Tutuola laughed at his quirky friend. The son of a Yale intellectual who was close friends with the famed Harvard sociologist, Atlanta University professor, and civil rights advocate Dr. W.E.B Dubois, he was Elliot's best friend since freshman year and the talk of the Radcliffe girls. While both were tall, fit, and very intelligent, the resemblance ended there. With his wavy brown hair (though he made idle noises of getting it close cropped much to Kathy's horror), excellent taste in clothes, and masculine demeanor Elliot was the more attractive of the two. Fin often looked like he slept in his clothes and did project a bit of a gruff aura, but he did have a certain roguish charm and piercing wit that some found irresistible.

Apparently, the woman by his side must have. Standing next to Fin was a brunette, dressed in a light purple blouse, red beret, and tasteful blue skirt that ended just below the knee. "Oh, almost forgot. Everyone, this is Olivia Benson."

Munch was the first to greet her. "Tell me, what do you think of space rockets?" He was always a direct to the point kind of guy.

The woman, Olivia, looked confused. "Umm, ok. That's a weird topic to start off with but I'm game. I don't know much about them I guess."

"Well then, before my friend here decides to point out their merits I am going to tell you that nothing will come out of it, unless the secret government findings from Roswell, New Mexico…"

The entire table groaned; how Munch managed to work in either Alger Hiss or Roswell into ever conversation was a legend in the Harvard/Radcliffe community. Alex slapped him on the head, as she had to do quite frequently. "You'll have to forgive my fiancée, he's a bit eccentric."

"I really couldn't tell," said Olivia politely, the twinkle in her eyes saying differently. "Nice to meet you Miss…"

"Cabot, Alexandra Cabot, but you can call me Alex. And this are my good friends Kathy Malone and Elliot Stabler."

"Nice to meet you," she said warmly, shaking Kathy's hand.

"Likewise," replied Kathy. She forced herself to suppress a frown when Elliot rose and accidently knocked the table a bit with his thigh, spilling one of their drinks. For someone so self-confidant he was never this clumsy, even around her. Kathy's eyes narrowed, for he seemed to be taken by this Miss Benson already.

"I must say," said Elliot, attempting to be his usual, confidant self but with a slight catch in his voice that both Kathy and Munch picked up on, "You are a step up from the usual girls Fin takes an interest in."

"Hey," protested his best friend.

Olivia on the other hand, laughed. "I'll take that as a complement. So, from your accent I take it you're from New York?"

"You guess correctly," he grinned. "I was raised in Queens though my family does have a penthouse in the Upper East Side."

She nodded her head appreciatively. "Not bad. I was born in Manhattan though my mother moved us to Houston when I was twelve. Grew up a Texas girl," she said, exaggerating a Texas twang which made Elliot cackle.

Kathy, watching the conversation unfold with keen interest, didn't notice Fin sit beside her until he whispered in her ear. "Quite a catch huh?"

That got her thinking. Olivia wasn't classically beautiful in the general sense. The brunette's appeal rested in her entire package. The large brown eyes, olive skin, curvy but not too thin figure, her simple but elegant style, slight huskiness in her voice, the no nonsense attitude, but most especially she seemed to have an intense conviction and animation; the latter was on display as she recounted a few colorful people she had met back in Houston. And the normally introverted Elliot was eating it up.

"She's cute," Kathy finally said, a hint of jealousy in her voice at how relaxed Elliot looked talking to her. "So where'd you meet her?"

"At the Fogg Museum. We were both looking over the same painting and got to talking. I asked her on a date for today and she said yes."

The blonde grunted acknowledgement and focused her attention back to the conversation. "So Elliot," asked Olivia, "What do you do for recreation around here?"

Elliot shrugged. "I play tennis every now and again. My mom taught me."

"Oh please," interjected Munch, his fiancée noticing he had that mischievous twinkle in his eye. "His mom was a champion. This SOB can beat anyone there is."

Olivia cocked her eyebrow. "Really? How's about we play tomorrow, just you and me? I'd love to get some practice for my game with a championed-trained player such as yourself."

"I don't know Miss Benson. Do you think a lady like you is up to it?" Elliot remarked slyly. Kathy frowned; did Elliot just flirt with her? He never flirted; maybe she was mistaken.

"Awe, is the great Elliot Stabler afraid of getting beat by a girl?" She chuckled and swiped his arm. "I promise I'll go easy on ya." Ok, now that was flirting.

"I like this one," Munch exclaimed, finding the entire situation amusing. "Elliot finally found someone that met his match, well apart from me of course," he grinned cockily while Alex rolled her eyes.

Elliot's eyes narrowed, not backing away from the challenge. "Ok then Benson, you're on. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Why did Kathy feel like something very bad just happened?

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Elliot Stabler entered the men's changing room of the Harvard sports center, quickly striding to his locker. Turning the key through his own personal padlock, he rid himself of his usual day clothes and changed into his tennis outfit, a tight white polo shirt and cream shorts. All displayed his firm muscles and athletic physique; he smirked cockily. Who was this Benson girl who though she could take him on?

His mind flashed to the olive skinned girl he had met yesterday. He couldn't explain it but something about her interested him; it wasn't that he was attracted to her (though there was no doubt that she was quite attractive), but she had a firm personality, kind demeanor, and quick wit not unlike himself. He couldn't help but like her, though that was not going to stop him from crushing her today.

"Ready to get your ass whooped Stabler?" Elliot looked up and glared at Fin, who entered the room with a smirk on his face.

"You're just jealous cause you could never come close to beating me," he retorted.

His best friend's smirk fell. "I told you, the sun was in my eye."

"Five times?" Elliot quipped disbelievingly. "Ok, I'll take your word on it." The sarcasm had the desired effect. Fin gave him a deep scowl, but when his lips curled upward both shared a laugh. The two had been friends ever since freshman year when they shared a room at the dormitory. They had their differences sure, but that didn't stop them from being thick as thieves for the last three years.

"So Elliot, what do you think of Olivia?"

He smiled. "She seems like a good decent girl, a welcome change in pace for you." Fin had a reputation as a womanizer on campus; though there were certainly many girls who would oblige him in that regard, Elliot wasn't that type of man. He was with Kathy, and sticking with one woman was alright with him. "Though it strikes me as odd how I've never seen her around before yesterday."

"She doesn't socialize much; doesn't go to the same fancy parties that you or I go to. Works part time at a local bakery while mostly keeping to herself on her free nights." Elliot could sympathize with that; despite having grown up in a world of fancy balls and cocktail parties hosted by his mom and dad back in their Manhattan penthouse, he was more the intimate family gathering type of person. The times when he, his parents, brothers, and sister shared a quiet evening together were what made him happiest (even though they often fought like wild animals more often than not; goes with the Stabler genes he supposed). "Speaking of which, how's things with you and Kathy? Are we going to have another wedding so soon after Mr. Bony Ass'?"

To tell the truth, Elliot really never talked about marriage with Kathy. He sometimes thought it was needed, especially when his mother or father needled him on the subject when he called them, but whenever he tried it was jest never a good time. "I'm not going to marry anyone unless I'm in love Fin."

His friend raised his eyebrow. "And you're not in love with Kathy?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "I'm not sure what love is."

"If that's not a hedge then I'm Douglas MacArthur," Fin quipped, mimicking smoking a corncob pipe that made Elliot snort. "I know she loves you and you've been together for quite some time. Why don't you take the plunge?"

Elliot had his reasons but would rather they not be known, so he told Fin the same thing he told his parents and his siblings. "I'm just not ready."

"Uh huh." Fin looked skeptical but decided not to push. Lord knows what it took to get Elliot Stabler to open up. "Alright, you better get out there. Won't want to let Olivia think you're a coward." He left before Elliot could quip back. Grabbing his racket, he exited the locker room and jogged toward the court.

There was no sign of Olivia yet. "So where is she?" Elliot asked no one in particular.

"She is right here."

Elliot looked over in the direction of the voice and almost did a double take. Olivia was wearing a close fitting athletic shirt and a high cut skirt; of course it was completely tasteful but still. Elliot had to admit that this woman was very attractive.

"Stabler?"

He snapped out of his musings. "Huh?"

"I was saying," Olivia smirked, "Are you ready? It's my serve." She held up the ball in front of him like she was talking to a child.

His eyes narrowed. "Of course I am Benson. Let her fly." He positioned himself to await her opening volley. "Loser buys the other lunch."

"Deal. Get ready to pay."

From the stands Kathy frowned, but decided to let it go. Elliot would not like someone too clingy; it was a major turn-off.

Raising her sleeveless arm, Olivia let the ball fly with a well-placed serve. Distracted momentarily by the pleasing sight of her poised movements, Elliot reacted too late and the ball grazed the tip of his racket and careened out of bounds. 'What the hell just happened?' he thought.

Olivia on the other hand looked incredibly smug. "So what was this about warning me?" she taunted.

Elliot's cheeks reddened. "Shut up and serve the damn ball."

"Oooh, a little sore aren't we?" 'She must really be enjoying this,' Elliot thought.

The match went on for nearly thirty minutes, neither of them managing to deliver a knockout blow after that. One would score, and then the other, on and on it went. Both sweating bullets, Olivia blinked first. "Alright, next score wins."

Elliot, by now having sweated out all the snarky comments, just wanted to beat this interesting woman and go take a shower, sick of the summer heat. "Done. Now it's my serve." Bouncing the tennis ball a few times, he threw it in the air and sent it sailing forth at Olivia. She was remarkably quick on her feet, her toned, olive skinned legs possessing more than just looks. Back and forth it went, neither of them backing down. However, by the seventh serve on Elliot's part, he misjudged the trajectory, sending the ball into the net rather than over it like he intended.

"Winner! The lovely Olivia Benson," she called out, taking an exaggerated victory whoop.

By now too exhausted to care, Elliot trudged over to his thermos and drained it dry, dumping a bit on his head to cool down. Panting, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. "Good game Stabler," she said graciously, extending her hand.

He accepted it, not wanting to be that guy who was known as a sore loser. "Thanks. You know, I've never seen anyone besides my mother play that well Liv." 'Did I just give her a nickname? Why did I like it?' he thought.

If she felt uncomfortable by it, she didn't say anything. "I'll take that as a complement, El."

Apparently she was ok with it cause she just gave him a nickname. It had a nice ring to it. "It was, now if you don't mind, I have to take a shower. Wouldn't want to keep the lady late for the lunch I'm paying for."

She giggled. "Well then what are you waiting for, hurry."

That night, he sat in his bed awake, reflecting on his day with her. Try as he might he couldn't get this woman off his mind. 'What does that mean?' he asked himself.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

8 AM, July 13, 1969

The office was spartan in décor, one of many situated in the massive complex in the forests of Langley, Virginia. The current occupant had a lot on his mind; his expensive suit was a bit rumpled, more from getting dressed in a hurry than anything else, his curly hair close cropped on his head. Many were intimidated by him, but that was more due to his legendary reputation. He had worked nearly twice as hard as others did, and was rewarded with his current position, Director of Technical Services for the Central Intelligence Agency.

He had instructed his secretary (a woman vetted thoroughly for her loyalty and patriotism) to hold all his calls that morning, needing a bit of privacy after a whirlwind night. There was however one pressing matter of the utmost importance that he insisted should come through, and it did that morning. Snatching the receiver on his massive mahogany desk, he bellowed into the phone, his usually suave demeanor gruff with both fear and determination "Tutuola."

"Sir, it's me," answered the voice on the other end. "I'm calling form a payphone near Central Park."

"I don't care about your location Brian, only the target's. Is he close by?"

"No, a bunch of Transit cops chased us out of Grand Central, and in the rush I lost him. However, one of the other agents has him tailed. Apparently he's being dragged by some hooker to a soup kitchen after saving her from a cop."

"Always was a righteous SOB," Fin observed with a chuckle. "Alright, keep me posted, and don't let him get into trouble until I get there, alright?"

"Copy that sir. I'm on it." The phone clicked off.

Sighing, Fin Tutuola leaned back in his desk, closing his eyes. It had been a pretty stressful few days, and an uneasy feeling of dread was coursing through him. Everything he worked for, everything his country stood for, everything he believed in was in jeopardy, all thanks to one man; Dr. Elliot Stabler.

**A/N: And there's the first flashback. I know you guys wanted some more answers, but I had to introduce everybody and show how our two heroes first met. Trust me, next flashback will be much better. **

**Regarding Fin, I did make a name and background change regarding him but that was just to reflect the times. Much as we hate to admit, back then an African-American from the poorer districts of NYC would not be able to get into an Ivy League school no matter what. There were some students, but they were better off intellectuals like W.E.B Dubois, so that's what I did. Hope none of you were offended because I'm just trying to be accurate.**

**Next up we go back to NYC and see how Elliot is doing, and in the chapter after that we finally meet Olivia again :)**

**Please review both this and chapter 20 of Prey :)**

**God Bless**


	3. Chapter 3: What We've Become

**A/N: Hi everybody. Hope all of you are doing well with the holidays coming and all that. Happy first day of Hanukkah to those who celebrate it :)**

**I have decided that for those of you who are wondering about Olivia, I have decided to put her in this chapter, which will also deal with Elliot and Fin. Hope you guys like it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SVU. If I did there would be a few changes…**

**A prayer to those in Australia after the Sydney Hostage Crisis/Terrorist Attack. ISIS is a festering sore on our world that needs to be wiped out.**

**Oh, the 13****th**** of July 1969 was a Sunday but for the purposes of the story let's just say it's a Monday instead.**

**Enjoy and please review.**

Chapter 3: What We've Become

8:00 AM, July 13, 1969

Dr. Olivia Benson was cutting it pretty close. While being one of the top psychiatrists at Mercy General Hospital in New York City had its benefits, the luxury of being two hours late wasn't one of them. She was normally quite punctilious but the squirming seven year old in front of her wasn't part of that equation. "Come on Maur, aren't you finished yet?"

"Done mommy," said Maureen Benson, her pride and joy, stepping out of the bathroom.

Olivia couldn't help but smile, the smile of a proud parent. Her daughter was dressed in her overalls, her hair braided with a flower clip that made her look so cute. There was no doubt the boys would be lining up across the street when she grew up, much as Olivia wished that her little princess would never grow up.

"I can brush my teeth on my own," Maureen boasted. "I'm a big girl now." She was beaming, a look of pride on her face. She took after Olivia so much it made the older woman's heart burst.

"Oh you are huh?" said Olivia, a mischievous grin on her face. Before the little girl could let out a yelp Olivia had her on the bed and was tickling her side. "Then how come I can still do this?"

Maureen burst into giggles, squirming and kicking her tiny feet in the air. "Mommy… stop."

Laughing along with her daughter, Olivia relented and helped her off. "Ok Maur, let's get you some breakfast before school. I'm making pancakes, your favorite."

"Yay! I love you mommy." The little girl wrapped her arms around Olivia in a short hug before scampering off into the kitchen. Following the bubbly girl that was her daughter, Olivia still remembered the first time in the hospital that she held the little bundle in her arms, falling in love with her instantly. Everyone said Maureen was a carbon copy of her mother and for the most part they were right about her little princess, having the same olive skin, auburn hair, and caring heart. But Olivia knew her eyes, blue rather than her own brown, were her father's through and through.

Moments later, Olivia was flipping the pancakes on the griddle for Maureen while her own breakfast warmed up in the toaster. Olivia knew she wasn't the best of cooks but her daughter didn't complain, and in the end that was what mattered. Speaking of her daughter, she was busy coloring at the dining table of their Upper West Side, two bedroom apartment while "Blue Suede Shoes" played on the radio.

"And that was the King, Elvis Presley. And now to the news. All eyes in the country are glued to Cape Canaveral where Apollo 11 is preparing to launch two days from now on the first manned mission to the moon. We interviewed Office of Manned Space Flight program controller Brigadier General Donald Cragen, USAF last night…"

"Mommy?" asked Maureen from the table. "I need help with my shoes."

Olivia set the griddle down and low and behold Maureen was bent over, her tiny brows furrowed in concentration, trying to get her shoelaces tied and failing. Her heart clenched; that was the exact same look her father had when concentrating on something. "Here Princess, let me help you." Kneeling beside her daughter, Olivia quickly tied the laces; she didn't have time to go over it with Maureen. While part of her got annoyed with the drudgery of being a single mom, Olivia wouldn't have traded Maureen for anything in the world.

The interview with the USAF General was still going on. "For those of us who aren't rocket savvy General, do you mind telling us how the Saturn V works?"

"Of course Jim," answered General Cragen, who sounded to Olivia like a kindly father figure type. "It's actually very simple. There are three stages of rockets powered by liquid fuel engines, as opposed to the solid fuel boosters of our Minuteman ICBMs. The first and second stages will provide the thrust it needs to get out of the Earth's atmosphere while the fourth will propel the lunar module to the moon. After each stage is not needed it detaches and falls harmlessly to Earth."

"Isn't there a danger of one of those stages crashing and causing damage?"

Cragen laughed jovially. "Of course not Jim. First of all, the rocket is aimed so the stages will plummet into the ocean, far from any land surface. However, should a problem arise, there is a self-destruct code that can be given from launch control in Canaveral. Trust me Jim, there won't be any problems of that nature with my rockets."

"Oh, I forgot to say," Maureen chimed in her innocent voice as Olivia placed the pancakes in front of her, "Do you mind if I take the corn flakes box to school? I need it to make a rocket"

"No Maur, it's full."

"But I need it!" she said with classic seven year old melodrama.

"What could you possibly need it for?"

"It's important. Miss Stevens says we need to have to bring building materials from home for the rocket today in school. She said so last week."

Olivia groaned. "Well if she told you last week why didn't you tell me Friday?" she asked exasperatedly, her voice rising. "You shouldn't put things off to the last minute."

Maureen cringed at her mother's outburst. "I'm sorry mommy. Don't hate me." After saying that she began to cry.

Olivia's heart melted. "Oh Maur." She swept forward and embraced her daughter a hug, close to tears herself. After what her mother had made her go through Olivia had vowed upon first seeing her little Maureen that she would be different. Even one tear from her little angel brought anguish to her heart. "Don't ever think that. I love you so much; you mean everything to me."

"Love… you too… mommy," said Maureen, trying to control the sobs.

Giving her daughter one last squeeze, Olivia reached for a napkin and wiped off the tears. "I'm sorry Princess, but next time something like this happens you need to tell me immediately when you get home, ok?"

Her daughter nodded, sniffling. "Ok, I'll remember."

"That's my girl." Grabbing her toast out of the toaster and buttering it quickly, Olivia kissed Maureen on the head before scouring the house for supplies. 'Honestly, do these teachers know how much crap we parents have to do when they tell the kids to bring stuff from home?' It was probably a question that had been asked many times before and would never be answered.

By the end, she had assembled a tube-shaped detergent container, a liquid-soap bottle, an ice cream carton, and an empty box of chocolates. Maureen, who had gotten over her tears, squealed with glee. "I'll have more stuff than anyone else at school. Thanks mommy, you're the best." Olivia may have had to eat her breakfast on the move, but her daughter's smile was worth it.

Hearing a knock at the door, Olivia quickly checked her appearance with her compact. Having little time to get ready this morning, her auburn hair had been hastily brushed, her face bare of makeup except for yesterday's eyeliner, and a brown blouse thrown over her head. Overall however, even at thirty-eight Olivia knew she was quite sexy. "Coming," she called out when the knock continued.

Opening the door, Maureen exclaimed "Annie!" In rushed Annie Hayden, Maureen's best friend who lived on the floor above, who greeted Maureen as if they hadn't seen each other in months rather than twelve hours.

"Morning Olivia." Behind Annie was her father, David Hayden, an attorney for the New York County District Attorney's office. Looking at her adoringly, he pecked her cheek. "You look beautiful today."

"Thank you," Olivia said, blushing slightly at her boyfriend. They had been dating for about two months and things were going great. Seeing that Annie was hefting two plastic bags filled with cartons, Olivia chuckled. "She cleaned you out too for that rocket thing?"

"Yep," David replied with a sigh. "Every toilet paper and paper towel roll in my house is missing the cardboard tube in the middle."

Olivia slapped her head. "Damn, forgot about those."

He laughed. "Anyway, would you mind coming over to my house of dinner tonight?"

"You're going to cook?" Olivia asked with a raised eyebrow. Most of their dates had consisted of fancy restaurants, movies, or cocktail parties hosted by lawyers he was acquainted with.

"While I can make a mean TV dinner, no. Mario at the Italian restaurant around the block owes me for some legal work I did for him. He's making the dinner for us."

"That's good, I don't want to have to call the fire department halfway through our date," she smirked.

David scowled for a moment before continuing. "Annie will be sleeping over at her cousin's house so we'll have the place to ourselves. I want to talk to you tonight about something important."

"Oh? Well then it's a date."

He beamed, looking very much like an excited kid. "Great. Let's go girls, time to go to school."

"Coming daddy. Bye Dr. Benson," said Annie, skipping out.

"Bye mommy."

Olivia bent down and gave Maureen a big kiss. "Bye Princess, see you soon." Hearing the door shut, Olivia made her way to the phone, needing to call her best friend Casey Novak.

"Go for Casey," came the self-assured voice on the other end. Her friend was so predictable.

"Hey Case, its Liv."

"Liv, how're ya doing?" said the other woman in an exaggerated Texas twang. "What can I do for my BFF today?"

"Well, David asked me to have dinner with him at his apartment…" she began, hoping Casey didn't do what she usually did.

Luck wasn't on her side today. "Woooo!" whistled the other woman. "Benson's finally getting some. About damn time!" Olivia sighed; the heir to millions in oil money along with her brother, Casey's job was to schmooze the investors while her brother ran the rigs. Along with that, she was also a notorious player and not ashamed to flaunt it. While Olivia wasn't that type she didn't judge; plus, it was kind of fun to have a friend like that.

"I think he wants to talk about a serious relationship."

"While that may not be my cup of tea, I think you should go for it. Ever since Dean you've been alone and it's not healthy."

She was right about that. Olivia's ex, Dean Porter, had been a jerk constantly sleeping around. When Olivia told him about Maureen just a month after the divorce he had packed up and left. He was so unlike David, and her previous love for that matter.

Olivia shook her head, blocking the heartbreaking memories before they came. "I'll take your word for it. But anyway do you mind…"

"Sure, I'll babysit for my favorite goddaughter."

"Thanks Case, got to run." Hanging up, Olivia rushed outside to catch the subway.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

8:30 AM, July 13, 1969

It wasn't the best of neighborhoods Elliot deduced. The area was filled with suspicious looking characters but in his current getup he fit right in. "I don't want to seem rude Gladys but are we close to our destination?" he asked.

Gladys laughed. "Hold your horses bucko, just turn this corner and, viola! We are here!" Here turned out to be what looked like a soup kitchen crowded with other streetwalkers. "Hey girls!"

The other prostitutes greeted their friend warmly, clucking and fussing over her slap mark, which was starting to bruise. "Passion," asked one, a saucy looking Italian by her swarthy skin, "Who is that you brought over?" She looked over Elliot suspiciously. If they were usually treated by people like that asshole cop treated Gladys earlier, Elliot didn't fault them for being weary.

"That's Elliot. He's a friend." The group lowered their guard at that.

"Gladys!" Elliot turned his head to see a middle-aged black woman exit the soup kitchen, concern on her friendly face. "What happened to you?"

"Sid again," she said, not having to elaborate. The woman nodded while a chorus of hateful cursing came out of the group. "He would have done worse Sister if Elliot here hadn't saved my ass."

At that the crowd of streetwalkers began to hoot and crowd around Elliot, "You are my hero," "I knew he was a good guy when I saw em'" "You ever need an itch scratched, it's on the house." The last one made him flush bright red, trying to find a way to extract himself from the situation.

"Ok girls, lay off the poor guy," laughed the black woman. "Sister Peg," she introduced herself, shaking Elliot's hand. "I run the local soup kitchen here for the church. All of God's children are welcome, so come on in. You look like you could use a hot meal."

The rumbling of Elliot's stomach belied that. "I guess you're right," he said, grinning sheepishly. The woman, he guessed was a nun, seemed genuinely nice. From his travels that morning he knew such people were hard to find in this world. Upon entering the building a delicious aroma filled his nostrils. "Mmm, that smells good."

"Thank you Elliot, that's my famous oatmeal recipe. It'll take a few minutes so would you like a cup of coffee?" Elliot nodded. "Milk and sugar?"

He had no idea what he liked in his coffee, so he just said, "Yes please." Sipping the coffee, which was rather good, he picked up a copy of the _New York Times_ on the table and began doing the crossword. "Hmm, a small village in Denmark. What could that be?" he wondered idly.

"Frailty, thy name is woman," said Sister Peg, a smirk on her face as she brought over a large pot of oatmeal to serve to everyone.

"Hamlet," exclaimed Elliot, writing it in. His eyes then bugged out. 'How did I know that?' He put the enigma out of his mind for a moment when he caught the headline item in the _Times_.

**All Eyes on Apollo 11**

"Can you believe it?" Elliot turned to see one of the girls looking over his shoulder at the paper. "Soon there will be men on the moon. Weren't the Russkis ahead of us with that uh, Spooknick?"

"Sputnik, the Soviets launched Sputnik in 1957," Elliot corrected.

"You seem knowledgeable about this kind of stuff Elliot," Sister Peg said, placing a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, one he accepted with a smile and dug into ravenously. "Seems you were hungry," she observed with a laugh. "So tell me, what's a decent guy like you doing homeless and in the street?"

"I have no idea. I've lost my memory."

"That's terrible. I'd say it was due to drink but you don't seem like a drunk to me. I've seen chronic alcoholics before and believe me, it takes a toll on a man."

"It's all so confusing," Elliot confessed. "One minute I wake up in a bathroom stall and the next I'm reciting Hamlet. I'm an enigma and it's giving me a headache to piece together."

"Ok Elliot, calm down," Sister Peg soothed, placing a hand on his. "Let's simplify this. What do you know about yourself?"

Taking a deep breath, Elliot drew forth all the information he pieced together over the past few hours. "I am apparently homeless and a drunk according to my usual drinking partner, but I don't have the telltale signs of an alcoholic. No cravings and such."

"Good start, what else?"

"I must have some kind of education, a good one if I recognize Shakespeare. I don't have any recent injuries or disabilities so I must have been living a good life, and I managed to take down that asshole cop pretty well, so I must have some kind of military training."

Sister Peg smiled at him. "Sounds to me like you're a pretty sharp guy Elliot. I have no doubt that with your mind you'll get yourself out of this situation. Just remember to have faith in the Lord and things will work out, I promise you."

Smiling and thanking her for the meal and the words of comfort, Elliot couldn't help feel a bit of warmth at the statement of faith. 'Well, I guess I'm a religious man then.' The revelation gave him a new sense of hope as he left the kitchen.

"Wait up!" Elliot looked behind him to see Gladys running towards him. "I just wanted to say thank you again for helping me."

"Wasn't a problem. I was happy too."

The woman smiled and hugged him quickly. "Can I give you some advice?"

"Couldn't hurt," Elliot shrugged. "What I've been doing so far hasn't done me much good anyway."

She laughed. "Anyway, if you want people to take you seriously you ain't going to do that in this outfit. Get a decent suit, give yourself a wash and a shave, and get a hat. With that fancy education of yours, people will be tripping over themselves to help you."

That really was good advice Elliot figured. "Thanks, God bless you."

"God bless you too Elliot," she called out. "And good luck!"

With a new sense of purpose in his stride, Elliot began to walk out of the neighborhood. He needed to get to a place where he could get both money and a clean set of clothes. Most everyday commuters wouldn't carry stuff like that he reasoned, but travelers might, and what places had a lot of travelers where he could blend in? He had to go back to Grand Central Station.

Basking in his new plan, the happiness disappeared when he found out that he was completely lost. "Damn," he muttered. Elliot quickly began searching for ways he could get out of this situation. He could take a bus, the driver probably would let him off at the stop near to Grand Central. He'd need bus fare though. Now where to get it?

Seeing a small diner tucked on the ground floor of a tenement building, Elliot entered it, a small bell chiming. Looking at the man behind the counter, who was eyeing him with a look of disgust, Elliot said the first thing he figured a bum would say. "Any stale donuts?"

"Beat it dickface!" yelled the proprietor in a thick, Italian accent. "We don't want you bums here!"

Elliot knew he wasn't going to get charity from this guy, so how was he going to get bus fare? He could leap over and rifle through the register, but that would be risky and all he needed was a few dollars. It was then he spotted it, a small can taking donations for the Salvation Army, easily in reach. He just needed to get the guy away from the counter. "Spare a dime?"

"That's it, the bum's rush for you." Taking off his apron, the hulking owner began to walk out of the kitchen, which was when Elliot made his move. Acting, fast, he grabbed the small can and shoved it in his pocket, no one the wiser. The owner burst out of the kitchen, grabbed Elliot by the collar, and threw him to the pavement. "Get out and don't come back!"

Temper flaring at the rough treatment, Elliot leapt to his feet and turned, spoiling for a fight. 'What gives him the right to treat me that way?'

'Well, you did enter his diner, didn't leave when you asked him too, and steal the Salvation Army's money.' Seeing the man look a bit frightened like the Transit official from earlier, Elliot swallowed his pride and forced himself to walk away.

Once a good distance from the diner, Elliot checked his money. There was about five dollars in loose change, mostly quarters and dimes. Felling a bit of regret for stealing, he made a mental note to give fifty dollars to the Salvation Army once he got out of this mess.

Sure enough, there was a bus stop across the street. Breathing a sigh of relief, Elliot was about to make his way over to it when something caught his eye. Waiting by one of the stores was a man in an olive raincoat, leaning against the brick and reading a paper. About fifty or so feet behind was another man in a grey homburg cap; Elliot had seen them both before, both on his way to the soup kitchen and just as he walked into the diner.

A feeling of dread swept over him. 'Am I being followed?'

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

9:00 AM, July 13, 1969

The Central Intelligence Agency, contrary to popular belief fostered by Ian Fleming novels and the like, was in fact a massive bureaucracy. Finlay Tutuola hated it; run out of the massive headquarters at Langley, Virginia by the collected analysts and pencil pushers. Fin was of the old school, the buccaneers who traced their history back to the OSS of WWII, going in and getting shit done rather than sitting on their asses and listening to endless piles of useless data. These were the guys in charge and were determined to restructure the agency.

'Not on my watch,' he thought angrily.

The branch he worked for, and had worked for since graduating from Harvard in 1951, was the National Clandestine Service, responsible for handling both intelligence gathering and clandestine operations. The branch Fin headed, Technical Services, did the so called "Dirty Tricks," researching and conducting things like interrogations, forgeries, covert weapons and the like. He enjoyed his job; no, he loved his job, and was determined to keep the Intelligence Directorate nerds and congressional opponents like Senator Frank Church from destroying him as they were itching to.

However, he had bigger problems to worry about now than interagency rivalries. Everything he had worked for was about to be undone by the most dangerous man in the US, Dr. Elliot Stabler, and he was determined to prevent that.

"Tutuola!" Fin looked up from his desk and frowned. Standing at his doorway was Jake Featherston, his immediate boss. There was little love lost between the two. Featherston was an analyst, mistrustful of the "Cowboys" like Fin as he put it. He was also a jealous racist who hated that the younger Fin had risen so high and had such a spotless record. His was merely satisfactory, while Fin was a minor hero in the department for his work in the Korean War, the Venona Project (covert intelligence gathering against the Soviets in Berlin), the Congo Coup, and the Phoenix Program in Vietnam.

Much as Fin wanted to tell this asshole to jump in a lake, he had to at least keep up appearances. "Yes Jake, what do you want?"

"May I ask why you have Agency assets going on a wild goose chase in New York City?"

Fin sighed, but he was prepared for this. "It's a little training exercise. One of our State Department friends went on a little nervous breakdown and I'm making sure he doesn't spill his guts to the wrong people."

"Give it to the FBI, this is their job!"

"Like I'd give my cases to Hoover's assholes." The FBI and CIA were rivals, and thusly had the natural animosity of rivals.

"I couldn't care less Tutuola. Bedsides, the President needs a briefing on operations in Laos. I need you and your agents to brief me so that I can brief Kissinger."

"You need a briefing on Laos?" Fin asked incredulously, the implication obvious.

"No, I need solutions to present to the White House. You and your most experienced people in the conference room, Ten AM." He turned and began to walk away.

"No," Fin answered calmly.

Featherston turned back. "What? That wasn't a suggestion."

"Watch my lips; fuck off." Fin smiled inwardly at his boss' near apoplexy. It might be wrong to purposely piss somebody off for one's own amusement but damn the consequences it was just too damn funny.

His boss looked like a steam whistle about to burst. "You'll hear about this! You better shut down this little game of yours by the end of business today or I'll be back." He stalked out, fuming.

Chuckling, Fin sat back in his chair. The pompous dick actually did him a favor; he needed to head to New York anyway to oversee the operation and this just gave him an excuse.

The white phone on his desk rang, shocking him for a moment. It was his direct line, one not many people knew. "Tutuola?"

"It's me," he heard Kathy say. "What happened?"

"Relax," he told her. "I have everything under control."

**A/N: A little cliffhanger for you there.**

**Hope you liked the chapter. Probably left you with more questions than answers yet again but everything will be revealed, trust me. **

**Just a note, Hayden is not a main character in this. He'll only appear one more time; I am EO through and through.**

**The stuff about the CIA is all accurate but I won't focus too much on the history or the geopolitical situation. It was only included to characterize Fin properly. We'll get a better look at him in the next chapter, trust me.**

**Next up, is someone following Elliot? And what's up with Olivia? Find out next time :)**

**God Bless.**


	4. Chapter 4: Maneuvers

**A/N: Merry Christmas guys, sorry this took so long but I had to rewrite a few sections that I didn't like. **

**Hope everything is going well with you this December.**

**This chapter, we see a bit more of Elliot as he rediscovers some of his old skills, while Fin desperately tries to keep tabs on him. What's the CIA agent's motive, and what will he do to achieve his goal? Also, we'll see more of Dr. Olivia, and the modern day versions of two beloved SVU characters make their appearance.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either SVU or US history. I'd probably be longing by the surf in Newport Beach if I owned the former though only God can own the latter ;)**

**To all the Guests who are reading this story, I'd love for you to let me know what you think. Don't be shy, come on out and review :)**

**My prayers are with the NYPD and the two officers that were gunned down for no reason except that they were cops. I pray for their families and I hope the piece of scum that killed them is burning in hell right now. God bless our men and women in blue.**

**Enjoy and please review.**

Chapter 4: Maneuvers

New York City, 9:30 AM, July 13th, 1969

"Excuse me. Does this line go to Grand Central Station?"

The bus driver, a burly man with thick sideburns and a half burned cigarette in his mouth, looked up with an annoyed scowl. "You got fare?" Elliot nodded, slipping a few coins from his stolen haul into the fare box. The driver seemed slightly mollified by this. "Nope, but we stop off about five blocks west. Should be a ten minute walk."

Elliot breathed a sigh of relief. "Great. Thank you sir."

"You're welcome, now take a seat." Elliot complied, heading to the back of the bus and plopping down. Two old ladies in the row across from him looked disgusted and scrambled for someplace else to sit but Elliot paid them no heed. His mind was blind at the moment to anything except his current predicament.

He was being followed.

Just a few minutes ago he had spotted two shadows, one on a grey homburg cap and another in an olive raincoat. After a few seconds of reflection he decided it could just be a coincidence, but decided on a plan of action to make sure. He'd take the bus, and if they followed he'd know they were on his tail (he had to get to Grand Central anyway, so it was killing two birds with one stone).

Keeping his eyes fixed to the store windows, left in solitude by the passengers due to his appearance and likely stink, Elliot spotted Homburg enter the bus through his peripheral vision. Flicking his eyes quickly at the man as he made his way to a seat in the front, he deduced from the greying hair, determined stride, and passive expression that he was some kind of professional, experienced at his line of work. 'No big deal,' Elliot thought hopefully, mostly to appease himself. 'Could be just a businessman on his way to work.'

Casually looking behind him just as the bus lurched forward as it departed the stop, Elliot noticed Raincoat enter a taxi, which began following the bus. While his exterior remained the same, inside Elliot's mind was racing with this new found information.

'I'm being followed,' a voice in his head kept repeating. It sounded bad, and it probably was, but there was a silver lining in this piece of information. The two men who were following him probably knew who he was, if not personally then at least by reputation.

Also, what did the fact that he had shadows mean? They could be cops and him a criminal of some kind, but he remembered what Gladys and Sister Peg had said and dismissed that thought; if he was a criminal then he'd have a different mindset. It might be espionage, them being CIA or even KGB but why would an intelligence service be after him? He might have an education (supposedly) but was still a bum on the street. Most likely they were private detectives of some kind. Could he have an ex-wife he owed money out there somewhere? Elliot didn't think of himself as a man who would shirk his obligations, but there was the sad fact that he couldn't be sure.

Either way, if he could confront one of the men there might be a chance to get some information out of them. He dismissed talking to Homburg, for the man seemed far too professional. Raincoat however looked to be young an inexperienced, more likely to slip up; plus, the taxi was getting caught up in heavy traffic so there was a window of opportunity to deal with Homburg alone. If he could lose Homburg and confront Raincoat Elliot could end this now and finally get some information. He just had to figure out a way to do it. Ideas began formulating in his head, raising more questions on how he knew what to do when being shadowed. 'That's a question for another time,' he told himself. Suddenly it clicked in his head, and a small grin formed on his lips.

When the bus stopped about seven blocks from Grand Central (or so Elliot figured), he rose and made his way to the street. Pausing to admire the view in a deli window, he caught the reflection of Homburg getting off as well. Not seeing Raincoat close by, he figured now was his best shot at shaking the first pursuer.

Walking along the street, followed by Homburg innocuously about thirty feet behind, Elliot casually walked down the steps of a nearby subway station. The underground tunnel was packed, though not as much as it would have been with the morning rush. 'Perfect,' Elliot thought, allowing himself a small smile.

After depositing another few coins from his stash (with plenty left over), he reached the platform occupied by a cross section of New York City's millions. Irish and Italian working class, Upper East Side businessmen, women on early morning shopping trips, kids playing hooky from school, African Americans from Harlem or Bed-Stuy, and Homburg. With a whoosh of air which brought refreshing cool air to Elliot's face, the train slowed to a stop and opened the sliding doors. After the exodus of passengers, Elliot joined the gaggle of patrons stepping in, smirking to himself when he saw Homburg enter the same car as him.

When the chime signaled the doors were about to close, Elliot quickly stepped out, the doors shutting before Homburg could react. Watching through the window, he couldn't help the amusement seeing his pursuer's face flush in anger. The train pulling out of the station, he also couldn't help the friendly wave he gave to Homburg, the latter man by any indicator not amused. So apparently he also had a smug sense of humor.

"_Jalda nyeoo sip sio_, _babo_ – Bon voyage, moron," he muttered cockily. His eyes momentarily went wide. 'Why did I just tell him bon voyage in Korean?' Yet another mystery to be pondered later, but now he had Raincoat to deal with.

Elliot found the latter man on the surface about a block away, probably delayed by traffic or something. One quick look at him confirmed Elliot's earlier deductions. If Elliot was around thirty-eight (based on what he thought however), this man was likely ten years younger, wearing an anxious look compared to Homburg's passivity. 'A rookie at... whatever he is.' Entering a small bodega, Elliot bought a pack of Marlboro's with his money and left, spotting Raincoat at a payphone about ten feet away. Taking out one of the cigarettes (Elliot knew he didn't smoke, but this was as good a way as any) and approached the man.

"Hey buddy," he said in a cheerful voice, causing Raincoat to swivel around, a look of shock on his face. "Could I trouble you for a light?"

Raincoat hesitated, not knowing what to do. Elliot feared he was going to walk away with a "Fuck you," but he did the opposite. "Uh, sure." The man pulled out a lighter.

"You know who I am don't you?" Elliot asked, deciding it was now or never.

Dropping the lighter, Raincoat paled, his training obviously not covering being accosted by his subject. "I, uh, have no, uh idea what you're talking about pal." The way he stammered betrayed the lie.

"You're following me," Elliot replied, "You obviously know me."

Raincoat kept playing dumb. "Are you trying to sell me something?"

"Do I look like a fucking salesman?" Elliot spat, starting to get angry, a deep rage bubbling from deep in his gut. "Why are you following me?"

"I'm not following anyone, now if you'll excuse me…"

Something in Elliot's brain snapped, just like with the cop earlier. Grabbing Raincoat by the lapels, he hefted him in the air and slammed his back into the brick wall of the bodega, delivering a sharp blow to the ribs with his fist. "_Jotbab_ – weak piece of shit!" he screamed, again in Korean. "Tell me who I am!"

The man was younger and fitter than Elliot, but his shock and fear precluded him from fighting back. "I don't fucking know; get your damn hands off me!"

Elliot's eyes were almost black with a primal rage. "I'm not taking your bullshit," he seethed, moving his hands to Raincoat's throat. "You will tell me!"

The man's eyes widened in fear, hands desperate to loosen Elliot's grip on his throat. Elliot refused to let go, his mind clouded with rage even as Raincoat began hitting his sides; he didn't even register the blows, the adrenaline in his system focusing only on the task at hand. It was if a primal being had taken over, and all the anger and frustration at his condition spilled out. With the urge to take it all out on this lying scum, Elliot's thumbs drifted upward and pressed firmly on Raincoat's trachea, the man's rasps beginning to show lack of breath.

"Hey you, what's going on?" said the scared voice of the bodega owner.

With the outside stimulus Elliot's wits returned. 'What the hell am I doing?' He was killing the guy, choking him to death. He released the grip, completely ashamed and scared of himself. 'What's the matter with me?' Elliot couldn't believe his own homicidal rage. He didn't think he was a criminal, but with that rage…

Raincoat, breathing heavily and fear still in his eyes, backed away. "You crazy asshole, you tried to kill me. You're out of your mind."

"_Gae saeki_ – son of a bitch – you lie!" There was the Korean again. "You knew the truth about me," Elliot replied in a small voice.

"Asshole." With that Raincoat broke and run away.

Elliot felt anger bubble up, but at himself this time. "Good job Elliot. You've achieved practically nothing."

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

One Police Plaza, NYC, 10:30 AM, July 13th 1969

With the Vietnam War in full swing, tensions with the Soviet Union and the People's Republic of China at a height not seen since the Cuban Missile Crisis, domestic terrorists and radicals threatening America's social fabric, and hostile governments popping up all over the world threatening America's interests, the country's intelligence and counterintelligence apparatus was at its most powerful in years. Considered a nonpartisan career official, DCI Richard Helms oversaw one of the world's largest intelligence gathering and clandestine departments, exerting power over large areas in the name of America's national security.

It was thanks to this that Fin was able to set up the New York operation quickly; pulling his rank in the Agency, the NYC Police Commissioner was more than happy to let him run the mission from vacant office space at One Police Plaza, many of the NYPD officers awed that a secret agent was working near them.

The power also enabled Fin to get from Washington to New York in less than two hours, hopping on a Huey chopper from DC to La Guardia and having a car on standby for him (though it wasn't nearly as good as his Cadillac convertible back in Washington). Waiting in the lobby of One PP was his on scene commander, Brian Cassidy, a slightly ragged man with a weathered face and unkempt, spiky black hair. The SoB was still dressed in the ragged clothes from the op, but his face was clean and shaven so he did manage to tidy up after himself.

"What happened Cassidy? Weren't you supposed to be on Elliot's every move?"

"He already saw me from the station," Cassidy replied with a shrug, arrogance in his voice that Fin believed shouldn't belong there. He was a good agent but also considered himself a legend in his own mind. "Don't worry, I have Simons and Betts on him right now. He's not going anywhere."

"And his memory?"

Cassidy looked a bit anxious. "Completely gone. I may have slipped and called him Elliot once but that's it." Fin furrowed his brows. "He was spouting gibberish, yelling about who he was and why he was there. I just wanted him to stop screaming, so I may have also said 'I'm Brian.'" Cassidy defended.

Not wanting the man to feel ashamed over a little slip (even if he shouldn't have done it), Fin patted him on the back. "Eh, shouldn't be a problem. You didn't give him much to work with and he's still being shadowed. Good job." Cassidy visibly relaxed at the praise, for he was fiercely loyal to Fin. For one he, as well as many of the younger agents in the NCS, regarded him in awe from his time as a field agent abroad. He had a hand in most US intelligence coups of the last two decades, with the pinnacle being at Elizabethville, Congo in 1960 where he had assisted in the assassination of anti-American former President Patrice Lumumba; while there were quite a few CIA agents who conducted missions that involved lethal force, most were in the paramilitary wing of the Agency that and serving in Vietnam or Laos. Being involved in an assassination was rare and although it was technically classified many knew that he was in Elizabethville at the time. That fact had greatly enhanced his reputation, a must to survive in the Agency since it possessed the backstabbing ways inherent of government bureaucracies.

Second and most important though was a special debt on Cassidy's behalf. He had an arrest for soliciting a prostitute back in college, which would disqualify him for a job at the CIA. After discovering the lie on his application, Fin made the discrepancy disappear and Cassidy was eternally grateful.

Reaching the second floor office where the operation was being coordinated from one of his agents, William "Red" Rifenberg (named that way for his dark red hair), waved at Fin. "Sir, Langley is on the line for you."

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. If it was Featherston again, he was seriously going to rip the racist asshole a new one.

"Tutuola," he answered gruffly, picking up the receiver.

"Enjoying New York Fin?" said a jovial, soft voice.

"Good morning Chester," Fin responded, this time more amiably. Chester Lake was an old friend of Fin's, his immediate superior back in Elizabethville and was now the Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, DDCI. "And how goes the Deputy Director today?"

He heard his friend and boss laugh over the line. "Oh nothing, just reading the daily _Pravda_." _Pravda_ was one of the Moscow newspapers, required reading for a CIA officer; most read the translated version, but Lake had majored in Russian Literature back at Yale so he preferred the real deal. "You don't want to know what crap the Russkis are spewing about Apollo 11."

"While we can chat about Soviet propaganda all day, may I ask what this call is really about?"

"You've been pissing off Jake Featherston again."

"Again implies I've stopped," Fin responded with a smirk.

"Arrogant prick," Lake quipped back. "Why can't you be nice to that fat fuck? He has connections to both Senator Stennis and Senator Church, so it's doing your career a disservice to piss him off." Anticipating the comeback Lake continued. "I know you'd rather vote for George Wallace but can you do it for my sake?"

"It's his own damn fault. Doesn't he realize I can't insult him unless he actually speaks to me first?"

He heard Lake sigh over the phone. "Normally you don't get this obnoxious, so what's your excuse this time?"

"I'm shadowing a guy from NASA. He was carrying blueprints for the Saturn V which I then took off him."

"I think that's their job Fin," Lake responded with a chuckle.

"Nah, the documents were top secret and he wasn't in Houston or Canaveral. He could be a foreign agent, so I'm following him to see if anything pans out. Maybe I'll get lucky and find a cell."

Lake seemed to ponder it over. "Well I can see why you didn't tell Featherston. He'd pawn it off to the FBI and the network, if there is one, would fade away. Anyway, good luck Fin. If you screw this up on top of pissing off Jake, Senator Church will crucify you and Helms won't do a damn thing to stop it. I won't be able to help you on this."

"Don't worry, I've dealt with far worse," Fin replied, not exaggerating one bit.

"Right, but next time you try and buttfuck Jake in front of a room full of agents, do it gently." The two shared a laugh before Fin hung up.

"Uh, sir." Fin looked at the doorway to find Cassidy, the duo that had been shadowing Elliot flanking him: Simons, in a grey homburg, and Betts, in an olive raincoat with strange purple bruises on his neck. "Uh, we…"

"What the hell is this!" he roared. "Why aren't you at your posts?" Since the replacement team, Rifenberg and Molinari, were still here there was no excuse to slacken off. "Who's with Stabler?" he asked with a fear spreading through his gut.

Simons, his homburg in his trembling hand answered. "Nobody." He cringed, waiting for the explosion.

"WHAT!" Fin roared; while his temper was nowhere near frequently brandished as Elliot's, when it did come out it was twice as furious and three times as intimidating. "What the fuck happened you assholes?"

"We uh," Cassidy stammered. "We lost him."

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

New York City, 10:45 AM, July 13th 1969

Elliot was furious with himself. Not only had he chased away two people who probably knew who he was but also very nearly killed a man. He didn't know why, just that his anger boiled over and he took it out on the poor guy. The temper of his must have been a real problem.

So there were four new things he knew about himself: he was good at clandestine work, he spoke fluent Korean, he had a cocky sense of humor, and hand temperamental issues. The enigma that was himself grew bigger and bigger.

Now wasn't the time though to ponder his identity. Somehow he had to get out of the city and get a new wardrobe. The clothes and other essentials he could snag at Grand Central, but to get out of the city he would need a car.

Wandering into the quiet side streets, he found a parked Ford next to a row of brownstones. The car was decrepit and in desperate need of a new paint job. 'Perfect,' Elliot thought, figuring if anyone spotted him in that car they wouldn't think much of it as they would if he were in a brand new Cadillac. Seeing a few pedestrians and the occasional car pass by, he knew waiting for it to empty would take all day, so he would have to do this quickly.

Arriving at the car, he pressed his hands down on the pane of glass as hard as he could, letting out a quiet whoop when the window slid down. Elliot looked around, relieved when no one was paying any attention to him. Unlocking the car, he entered the driver's side and reached for the wiring underneath the dash. 'Left wire to left wire.' Nothing; he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. 'Wrong wire. Right wire to left wire and…' The engine started with a vroom.

Elliot grinned. Now he was mobile.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Mercy General Hospital, NYC, 11:00 AM, July 13th 1969

Olivia sat in her office, finally happy to be in solitude for the first time since waking up in the morning. Since she walked in everything besides hospital work had been concerning Apollo 11. Apollo 11 this, Apollo 11 that. Yes, Olivia realized how important putting an American man on the moon was but enough already. She had enough stress in her life right now with her job, her daughter, her relationship with David, and the thoughts that would never go away no matter how much she tried.

Willing herself out of that train of thought, she focused once more on her patients. She currently, besides dealing with clinic work, writing several neurology textbooks, and consulting part time for the NYPD, ran a study on Gross Stress Reaction and the people it affected.

One of her patients, a young woman named Denise, had been sexually assaulted about seven months before and had reverted into a child-like state; she kept acting more like a nine year old than the twenty nine she was, thinking her loving husband was in fact her uncle or something.

Another, a Vietnam vet named Randall who the Army had transferred from Walter Reed, had been through intense fighting in Hue City back during the Tet Offensive a year and a half prior. Intense workups found nothing physically wrong with him but he was in a state of catatonia most of the time, only breaking into moments of lucidity infrequently.

The rest were all the same or variations of the same, some with night terrors, some with flashbacks that plagued at the slightest trigger, others even with complete memory loss. Olivia's specialty was psychiatric illnesses (she had even written a well-received textbook on the subject), and she knew that these heavy cases were tough to treat. All medicine could do was talk therapy and anti-anxiety meds, which were of use to the mild cases but not the severe ones she dealt with. There were some radical measures like electroshock or certain drugs but Olivia wanted to get to the bottom of the disease itself, explore how it affected the human mind.

She was making progress at a snail's pace, but with a team of researchers a breakthrough in her lifetime was feasible. That was her ambition and what she wanted to be her legacy apart from raising her daughter.

Her phone rang at that moment. Snapping out of her dreams of glory, Olivia answered. "Dr. Benson speaking."

"It's just me Liv. No need for that Dr. Benson formality."

Olivia snorted. "Hey Alex," she said, happy to talk to her other best friend. While Casey was a wild woman always after a good time, the married Alex was the epitome of the new working housewife; whenever Olivia needed some calm girl time, she was the one to call. "What's up? How are the twins?"

She could practically envision Alex's smile. "Just got a letter from Michael. He's doing as well as can be expected in Tay Ninh province, what with the Viet Cong swine pouring over the border from Cambodia. He hopes Nixon'll blow the bastards to hell and I don't blame him."

"Me neither," Olivia agreed. "What about John Jr?"

"He finished his plebe year at Annapolis so he's happy. Currently on vacation with his girlfriend."

"Really. Little Johnny has a girlfriend? Munch should be happy."

Speaking of the devil… "Alex, have you seen my copy of the Warren Commission report?"

"Damn it John! I'm on the phone with Olivia, stop butting in!" Alex yelled.

"Well why do you… Hi Liv… think I'm on it too honey?" Munch replied with a sarcastic tone before Olivia could even say hi back. "How else am I going to get you to answer me?"

"For Christ's sake grow up and get some manners."

"Get off my case woman!"

Olivia snickered into the phone. She had long ago gotten used to the classic Munch family arguments. Fighting was to them the way football was to the US and Cricket was to the British, their sport of choice. To any casual observer it might seem as if Alex and John were one day away from divorcing after eighteen years or a murder suicide, but to anyone who slept in a room adjacent to theirs as Olivia had, the noises she heard put to rest that idea (and gave her nightmares for a month to boot).

"Before I give up and grab to popcorn," Olivia interjected, playing the peacemaker, "Hello John."

"Olivia?" Munch answered as if hearing her for the first time. "Just the Doctor I wanted to talk too. Why didn't you tell me Olivia was on the phone Al?"

"I did, you never listen to me."

"Here we go again, I listen plenty. Why do you think my hair is grey?"

"Ahem!" The fight would go on forever unless Olivia spoke up or they began having angry sex, and she was not planning on hearing that again over the phone for the rest of her life. "Alex, John, will you shut up and tell me what you want to talk about?" She used what had been dubbed long before her Badass Benson tone.

"Alright, alright, no need for that," Munch said calmly. "Have you heard from Elliot recently?"

She was taken aback by that question. "Elliot Stabler? Lately?" Her mind started to drift. 'Let's see, dreaming about him, yes; fantasizing, yes; remembering fondly, yes; talking…' "No, I haven't. Is something wrong?" she asked, worry in her voice.

"I don't know. Maybe." Elliot and John shared the intimacy of rivals. Their arguments back at Harvard were legendary, bordering on acrimonious but somehow they had stayed close friends all throughout college and the Korean War. "He called me Saturday."

"Wait, Elliot called you? Why didn't you tell me?" Alex asked with a huff.

"Now who's butting in to someone else's conversation? And why should I have to tell you every damn thing…"

"Alex, John, shut up!" Olivia yelled. "Tell me what Elliot said!"

"Sorry," Munch replied meekly. "Well, when he called I was kind of surprised. I don't hear from him often anymore."

"Me neither," Olivia answered with a sigh. The last time they had spoken was last month, and it had been a year since they saw each other. "So why did he call?"

"I don't know. He just said an urgent matter came up and he was flying to New York and wanted to see me. Booked his usual room at the Ritz-Carlton but his bed wasn't slept in."

"How'd you find that out?"

"Come on Liv, you know him, me, and Fin were all in the Agency during the War."

Olivia berated herself silently for forgetting. Each of the three friends had served in the clandestine missions during the Korean War, helping sabotage Chinese and North Korean supply routes and communicating with anti-Communist forces in Manchuria. "Right, my bad, so what happened? You think he may be with a lady in the city?"

She heard Alex snort. "And Pat Nixon does LSD. This is Elliot we're talking about."

Alex was right. Elliot was quite virile but his tastes didn't cross into adultery, only intensity. Olivia was well aware of that fact. "I guess you're right."

"Ok, if you hear from him give me a call alright," Munch said.

"No problem. Bye." Olivia hung up the phone, her work long forgotten. She leaned back and closed her eyes, thinking about Elliot.

**A/N: So there we go. Yet again more questions and answers. **

**I had fun writing Alex and Munch; we'll see more of those two ;)**

**Regarding Olivia's work, Gross Stress Reaction was what they called PTSD back in the 60s and 70s. After the Vietnam War the condition became very well documented and studied by doctors at the time; Olivia, with her background and all that, would most likely be at the forefront.**

**About the CIA, I made the description of Fin's career as accurate as possible. Patrice Lumumba was the President of the Congo after its independence from Belgium. He was too cozy with the Soviets so the US sponsored a coup to depose him and install the pro-American Joseph Mobutu. Lumumba was killed in Elizabethville in 1960 by forces who were concerned he might regain power. The CIA had a mission in the city at the time, but while documents show they tacitly supported the assassination it was pro-Mobutu forces that did the deed.**

**For the Senators mentioned, they are Sen. John Stennis (D-MS), a long serving senator from Mississippi, and Senator Frank Church (D-ID), a prominent Intelligence Committee member from Idaho.**

**Next up, we have back-to-back flashback chapters which I hope will shed some light on everything :)**

**Please review!**

**God Bless**


	5. Chapter 5: Life is a Highway

**A/N: Hi all. Time for another update.**

**We are in for another flashback chapter for the SVU gang, college version. We get to see more of our kookiest lovebirds Munch and Alex, plus will a little dating snafu end up bringing our favorite couple together? Find out now :)**

**Good news guys. I'll be starting on another story! Well, it isn't really a story. You know all those episodes of SVU where a really good EO moment comes and you're all on the edge of your seat for them to finally kiss and declare their love, only it doesn't happen? I do, and it pisses me off. My friend LillyBug991 (check out her stories, they're awesome), convinced me to do a ten part series of SVU episodes rewritten to allow for an EO get together. It'll be awesome and I invite everyone to check it out when it's published :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either SVU or US history. I'd probably be longing by the surf in Newport Beach if I owned the former though only God can own the latter ;)**

**To all the Guests who are reading this story, I'd love for you to let me know what you think. Don't be shy, come on out and review :)**

**Enjoy and Review!**

Chapter Five: Life is a Highway

Saturday, 5 PM, June 24th 1950; Cambridge, MA

"So why do you think Munch called us all down here?" Elliot asked his girlfriend as they rounded the last corner on their way to the café.

Kathy shrugged. "Knowing our friend, it's probably about something he heard coming out of Roswell or HUAC. The guy is borderline crazy."

"I think he'd prefer the term eccentric Kathy," Elliot replied with a chuckle as he held the door to the café open for her.

"El!" From a table in the back Kathy saw Olivia Benson, clad in a light blue dress that complemented her curves and a stylish black beret, wave to them; she and Fin had arrived first and had already ordered everyone their usual drinks.

To her immense irritation (not that she'd show it), Elliot smiled widely and moved forward to greet the other woman. "Hey Liv. Thanks for ordering for me." That was another thing that annoyed Kathy, their pet names for each other. Whenever she tried to give Elliot a pet name he had told her firmly not to.

"You're a creature of habit El. It was no trouble," Olivia replied, hugging him – and lingering a bit too long for Kathy's liking.

What surprised her was Elliot's response. "And your way is better? You changed your mind five times last time we were here. It was embarrassing."

Olivia was giggling. "Excuse me if everything looked good on the menu."

In the past week since they met, she and her boyfriend had been acting as if they knew each other since childhood. With her flirty demeanor and enchanting personality that just drew people to her, Kathy could understand why Olivia did it but what surprised her was Elliot's reaction. The normally kind but taciturn Elliot Stabler, the one who had problems controlling his temper, rarely opened up to people, and was a bit formal in most social situations seemed to be a different man around the new girl; he was, the best word Kathy could fins, carefree, and it bothered the daylights out of her. She trusted Elliot; the man that she had the pleasure of calling hers was too honorable and too enamored by her to stray. Who Kathy didn't trust was Olivia. While those doe eyes and wide smile might seem innocent, she knew Olivia Benson was dangerous.

"So," Elliot asked Fin as he shook his friend's hand. "Do you know why Munch called us here?"

"Knowing ol' boney ass, it's probably something about the Wheeling Speech or Roswell."

"That's what I said," Kathy responded with a chuckle, swiping Elliot's arm flirtatiously the way Olivia did. To her annoyance, he reacted like he usually did, with a simple pat on the back of her hand, as if acknowledging the display of affection, not like the happy and flirty way he would use with Olivia. Kathy made it a point to then lean against his shoulder, as if marking to anyone looking that he was hers. "So Olivia," she said sweetly, "Planning to beat the curfew tonight?"

The Radcliffe dorms had a nightly curfew starting at ten PM. If one wanted to stay later they had to sign their name in a book and state their destination to be preapproved. Olivia gave a sly grin. "Officially, I'm staying at my friend's home in Newport. What about you?" Rules were made to be broken after all, and in a university full of clever girls one found many ingenious ways to do so.

"Nothing much, just an open window and a trusted roommate. She never gets in any trouble so the administration will trust her." She snuggled up against Elliot's side once more. "El is taking me to see the new Liz Taylor movie."

"Cough, whipped, cough," Fin fake coughed. Elliot leaned over the table to punch him in the arm.

"In fact," Olivia whispered, "I'm staying with Fin and a few friends of him in Fenway."

Elliot furrowed his brows, which Fin caught. "Just some people my mother knows," he said sheepishly. His mother was a nice woman from a respectable New England black family; his grandfather had served in the 54th Massachusetts Regiment during the Civil War. "Don't give me that Elliot. They're respectable people."

"They better be," Elliot mumbled, seeming overly concerned with Olivia's reputation. Fin rolled his eyes, Olivia blushed, and Kathy frowned. Why was he being so worried over her, almost in a possessive way? Yes, Olivia Benson was dangerous indeed.

Luckily, Munch and Alex walked in hand in hand. "Munch, Alex," she called out waving to them and grateful to change the conversation.

"Hello guys, thanks for coming."

"I don't know about hothead over there," Fin replied, "But I'm only here for Alex's sake."

"Come on Fin," quipped Munch with a wiggle of his eyebrows, setting his cane down and easing himself into the seat. "You're just too much of a coward to say you love me."

"Yeah, that's not happening."

"Ignore him," Olivia responded, having gotten quite close to Alex as well over the past week. "So what's up?"

"And don't say anything about Roswell or I swear, I'll kick your ass, war hero notwithstanding," Elliot warned, though all could tell he was joking.

"I did find some interesting things on that subject, but that's not why we called you guys here. I just want to tell you we're moving the wedding up to next month."

"What?" Kathy asked. "But I thought you two always wanted a winter wedding?"

Munch took Alex's hand in his, kissing her cheek while Alex smiled widely. "Do you want to tell them baby or should I?"

"I'll do it John," she grinned. Leaning forward, she whispered, "I'm pregnant."

The table was silent for a moment before Olivia squealed, leaning forward and hugging Alex. "Really, oh Alex I'm so happy for you."

Reaching his hand out, Elliot clasped his friend's hand and shook it with conviction. "I can't believe it, you're going to be a father. Congrats man."

Munch smiled coyly. "Yep, so now you know why I need to tie the knot with this one."

"Oh shut up," Alex chided. The group laughed; all knew those two were hopelessly in love; it was just a question of timing.

"If anyone asks then," the father to be told everyone, "The baby is a month and a half premature."

"Just what we need," Fin groaned, "More Munches running around. I really hope the baby turns out like you Alex, for his or her sake."

"Har de har har," Munch replied while his fiancée giggled.

Fifteen minutes of toasts and ideas for baby names later, Kathy glanced at her watch. "Elliot, we need to go. The movie starts soon."

"But Kathy, we have plenty of time." She knew that, but he had been in another flirty conversation with Olivia and she wanted to remove him from it.

"I don't want to miss getting the good seats, come on, please," she pouted, knowing it always worked.

"Can't argue with that El," laughed Olivia.

Fin joined in. "As I said, whipped."

Elliot glared at his friend. "Ok fine. Congratulations again guys." He then smiled at Olivia. "Have fun tonight Liv."

"You too El," she smiled back.

Kathy frowned at the entire display. 'Calm down Kathy, Elliot is yours.' Her mind was right, why should she worry? She was Kathy Malone, tall, blonde, and beautiful, stunning in her white sundress and two inch pumps; she pretended not to notice but it was impossible to ignore the stares, the impressed looks, and the jealous whispers of Elliot's Harvard classmates at how he snagged the most attractive girl in the sister university. She loved him and she was also sure that he cared deeply for her, and even if he didn't show it enthusiastically it came across. There was no reason for her to be jealous, and tonight she would make sure he didn't once think of Olivia Benson.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Saturday, 10 PM, June 24th 1950; Cambridge, MA

Elliot seemed utterly at ease in his 1947 Ford convertible, bought for him by his father upon graduating as valedictorian from high school. Even three years old he took good care of it, the engine as smooth as silk as he handled the winding roads of the inner city. While not as modern as the newer 1949 Model Ford it was still an excellent car.

It had been a perfect night Kathy thought to herself with a dreamy smile on her face. They had gone to seen the new comedy starring Spencer Tracy and Elizabeth Taylor, and it had been the perfect date night movie. Halfway through it, Elliot had wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she had leaned into the crook of his shoulder, a grin on her face for the rest of the movie; it was rare he was the one to instigate such a display of affection and she enjoyed every minute of it. The fact that the movie was about a wedding only made it that the much better.

Crossing the Charles River back into Cambridge, Elliot pulled the Ford into a spot by the river. The top was down, allowing a cool sea breeze to waft through and cool the occupants. Shivering happily, Kathy did not object when Elliot pulled her to him just like he did at the theater; she wondered if she had been a bit irrationally jealous of Olivia Benson earlier. Perhaps she and Elliot were just friends, and the fact her boyfriend was this affectionate with her dampened her fears. She decided it may have been a little irrational, but she wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

"Professor Davies spoke to me the other day," Elliot said out of the blue. "He told me that he would be happy to have me get my master's degree here at Harvard."

"Why did he say that?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders, the muscles rippling under his shirt. While he looked the picture of gentlemanly poise on the outside, people often forgot he had the body of a steelworker, and that was one of the many things Kathy loved about him. "I mentioned that after graduation I wanted to transfer to Columbia. He asked why I couldn't just stay here, save the hassle of switching schools. I said I wanted to be close to my family, to which he just scoffed. Like I could be less of a physicist if I wanted to see my little brothers and sister."

Kathy smiled up at him. Elliot was the second of four kids; his elder brother was a married junior bank executive in Chicago, his younger brother was in high school, and his baby sister was still in seventh grade. He loved his brothers and doted on his sister, which Kathy found admirable. "Please; the only family Professor Davies cares about are the Radcliffe girls and local women he can charm into his bed. Don't get hung up on anything he says."

"Good point." He shifted his eyes to the water. It seemed to Kathy that Elliot hadn't planned this conversation, it was just coming to him naturally. It wasn't often she got to see the unguarded Elliot Stabler and it made her heart skip a beat. "Have you ever been in love?" he blurted out.

It took a moment for Kathy to fully grasp that he had asked that particular question. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry," he quickly retracted. "It's a deeply personal question and if you don't want to answer you don't have to."

"No, it's fine." 'Anytime Elliot Stabler wants to talk about love its fine by me.' "I actually was in love once." A flicker of contentment coursed through her at the frown on his face. Typical possessive Elliot. "It was a man named Frank Largo. During the Christmas holidays back in 1946, I went up to Pittsburgh to volunteer for the striking steelworkers, a girl who has everything lending a help to the working man and all that. He was one of the union organizers there and I fell in love with his roguish charm."

"Was it reciprocated?"

"Hell no," she laughed. "I was seventeen and he was twenty-six. Thought of me as a kid, though he did give me a kiss once." Most people would tell her not to disclose a past romantic experience, but Elliot was the kind of man that appreciated honesty. "We were in the back preparing signs for the next day's picket line, laughing like the friends we were. He said out of nowhere, 'You're a gem Kath,' and kissed me sweetly on the lips. It was magical but he went on painting the signs like nothing happened."

"I'd think he was as captivated by you as you were of him. You have that allure to you." Her heart soared at that statement. "Are you still in touch?"

"Nope, he's dead," she remarked, the elation changing into sorrow.

"So young?!"

"Yep, he was beaten to death outside a bar frequented by the steelworkers. The official report said it was a barfight gone bad but I don't think so. The most likely explanation is the factory owner hired someone to take him out."

"Why would they do that? I've heard about it happening back in the turn of the century but now?"

"Why wouldn't they?" she replied. "The mills have to keep running and the people who get in the way must be rubbed out."

"You make it sound like industry is akin to organized crime."

"I fail to see a difference, but I've not gotten involved in years." Kathy realized things were not going the way she wanted. They had started talking about love but it drifted into politics. "How about you, have you ever been in love?"

"I'm not sure I know what love is," he replied. She frowned at his non answer but it disappeared when he leaned down and kissed her. She smiled into the kiss, stroking his neck and hair with her fingertips. She moaned into his mouth when the kiss deepened, a perfect end to a perfect date. 'How do married people get tired of this?' she thought. 'When Elliot and I are married that'll never happen.'

After about five minutes of kissing, Elliot pulled the Ford out of the lot to take her back to the Radcliffe dorms. As they passed through Harvard square and spotted a lone figure on the side of the road. "Who could that be? Wait, is that Fin?" Kathy looked closely and saw it was indeed Fin's Chevy.

Elliot pulled the car over and Fin rushed over to him, Olivia with him. "Thank God you guys showed up. I'm really fucked here."

"Just calm down Fin. What happened?" It wasn't often that Elliot was the clam one in the group, but when he was he was rock-solid reliable.

"There was a complete mix-up. My friends thought it was next week that we would show up and they were out of town. Olivia has nowhere to go." He was right about that Kathy recalled. She had lied about where she was and she couldn't return to Radcliffe without being caught in a lie. "I took her to the house," he continued, referring to Elliot and Fin's dormitories at Cambridge House. "I figured she could stay in our room while we could camp out in the library."

"You're crazy Fin," Kathy said.

"It's been done before," Elliot remarked. "What happened?"

"We were caught."

"Shit," Kathy breathed. A woman in a man's dorm was a serious offense. Fin and Olivia could both get expelled for this.

Elliot frowned. "Who saw you?"

"Lenny Briscoe and a bunch of guys. I didn't see who the others were but they seemed drunk."

"Lenny's alright. We can talk to him tomorrow and get this straightened out. What are you going to do about Olivia? She still needs a place to stay."

"I was going to take her to her friend in Newport but my car got a flat and I don't have a spare. Why do I have the worst luck?" Fin yelled, kicking the aforementioned tire.

"I could take her," Elliot said.

"What?" Kathy asked. "It's fifty miles away."

"Please Elliot, I need this favor."

"Of course." Kathy knew he would comply. Elliot was the kind of guy who was fiercely loyal to his friends and would drop everything if one needed help. But she needed to get back to her dorm.

"I'll walk Kathy back to Radcliffe, don't worry about that," Fin told him, looking relieved. "I owe you one man."

"You actually owe me twelve, but who's counting."

"Thank you Elliot," Olivia said genuinely. "Thank you," she told Kathy as she hopped in the Ford. Only when it drove off did Kathy realize something. Elliot would be alone. In a car. In the dark. With Olivia Benson.

"Hell."

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Sunday, 12:30 AM, June 25th 1950; Route 138, MA

It was a cloudless June night, the moon brightening the road that snaked through southern Massachusetts on its way to Rhode Island. Olivia Benson didn't mind the night though. It felt comforting in a way, kind of like a dark, all-encompassing blanket was draped over her. The entire experience relaxed her, and the company didn't hurt either. Most Radcliffe girls would kill to spend a couple of hours alone with Elliot Stabler; while Olivia wasn't that awe-struck, she had to admit that she was drawn to the man sitting beside her, even if he was someone else's boyfriend.

While the road was clear of most traffic, Elliot seemed to travel at a leisurely pace. Most men Olivia knew from Harvard would behave one of two ways. They would either be nervous wrecks – sweating profusely, drinking from hip flasks, or fidgeting – or be strikingly vain and arrogant, especially gorgeous ones like Elliot Stabler. He however was being the perfect gentleman, respectful and relaxed, chatting and sending her glances the entire ride. She secretly reveled in the attention.

It had been an unexpected pleasure getting to know the most talked about man in Cambridge over the last week. Ever since the tennis game they had been inseparable, though always in a public place with people around, usually one or more of their friends too. It was nice to talk to him alone, and Olivia couldn't help but feel a little jealous of Kathy. 'She is lucky to have a man like him.'

The conversation drifted, as most these days usually drifted, to the Cold War. In both Harvard and Radcliffe student groups were out in force, the anti-communists shouting "Better Dead than Red" and handing out anti-Soviet literature and copies of Sen Joseph McCarthy's Wheeling, WV Speech while the other side argued against nuclear buildup and the so-called whitewashing of free speech. The discussion was highly emotional, even though Olivia's opinions mostly mirrored Elliot's.

"Communism is evil, plain and simple," Elliot stated without a shred of doubt. "If you don't believe me just ask the millions who died during the Ukrainian Famine in the 20s."

"Hey, you're preaching to the choir on that El," Olivia replied. Many men didn't like their women to discuss "male" topics like war or politics, but she was happy to discover that Elliot wasn't one of them. "But I don't think a war with the communists is necessary. The Soviet economy is inherently weak, we should try and ruin them using our superior one. We can advance and they would just collapse."

"Great minds think alike huh?" Elliot chuckled. "I said the same thing to Fin a while back. He said it would take a leader with a set of balls to initiate that."

Olivia took a deep breath, still angry at Fin for the night's fiasco. "I can't tell you how mad I am at your friend," she spat. "He should have planned this better and checked beforehand."

"He should have, yes, but you two were a bit too casual about the whole thing." He said it softly with no trace of malice, but the criticism was self-evident.

She had hoped for a little sympathy from Elliot and it was disheartening for him not to give any, but Olivia Benson didn't back down from anything. "He's your friend, and you should defend your friends, but you have to admit he did have a duty to protect my reputation."

"Yes, but the one ultimately responsible for that is you."

"You're blaming me for this?!" she shouted, indignant. Before he had been so charming, but now his tone was critical, nice but critical.

Her mind steeled itself for the legendary Stabler temper, but to Olivia's surprise it never came. "I don't blame you Liv. It was mostly bad luck that this happened. However, you let Fin put you in a situation where a little bad luck could cause a lot of damage."

Anger dissipating a bit, Olivia felt it being replaced with a hint of shame. She wanted him to think well of her, though she didn't know why exactly. 'Maybe he obviously cares about you,' a voice in her head answered. She shook it away; she had been hurt by so many people in her life who were supposed to care about her. "I'm never letting anyone do that to me again," she stated with conviction, only to realize what she revealed.

"Again?" asked Elliot, his eyebrow raised. "Why would you say it like that?"

"Nothing," she whispered, shifting her eyes away; the only people who knew about it were either her friend or back in Texas. "Forget it."

"Hey, you can tell me Liv. I promise I won't bite, much anyway." She snorted in humor but gasped when she felt his hand slide on top of hers. It was an intimate touch, and when she turned her head to look at him he was staring right back at her with caring eyes. "Did someone else do that to you before?"

Olivia sighed, deciding it would be safe to tell him but hoping he wouldn't judge her. "My mom," she said softly.

"What?" he shouted, surprise in his voice.

"My mom was a drunk," she choked out, tears suddenly coming to her eyes. "She was an unemployed elementary school teacher who made her money substituting or making me do odd jobs around our small town just north of Houston. Most of the time though, she's get drunk and bring random men to our home to have sex with, and whenever I displeased her she'd beat me." He didn't respond, only squeezing her hand tightly; it calmed her down. "The biggest problem is that it was my fault."

His head whipped around. "How can you say that?"

"It was. When my mom was young she was raped, by who no one ever found out. I am a result of that rape. She used to scream at me that I looked just like him, which is why she beat me. Her body was fine but her mind just couldn't stop reliving the rape." Olivia closed her eyes, composing herself. Even though it still pained her, she had gotten over that pain a while back. "Eventually the alcohol couldn't dull her pain anymore and she killed herself. I was fourteen at the time."

She looked over and saw a look of pure empathy on his face. "Oh Liv, I'm so sorry for you." Elliot comforted, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I thankfully never had to go through anything like that. My father may have been strict and my mother may have been a bit eccentric but they always made sure I was loved. Don't blame yourself, it wasn't your fault, it was the fault of the animal that raped her. Think of it this way though, God took one of the vilest moments in mankind and allowed something beautiful to come out of it."

"Thank you El," she said, feeling better, not from the words but the fact that it was him saying them. "It still hurts but I've made my peace with it. I was luckily taken in by an orphanage supported by the Novak family."

"The oil barons?"

"That's them. That's how I got to know Casey, the friend in Newport."

"What's she like?"

"Hmm," Olivia thought, trying to find the right word. "She's a bit queer."

"In what way."

"Well, the words demure, monogamy, and committed relationship are not terms in her dictionary if you know what I mean."

Elliot laughed. "She sounds like a riot."

"She is," Olivia laughed back. "Anyway, that's why I want to go into psychology, to help people like my mother who suffer from mental diseases." They had talked about their fields before, but hadn't really gotten into their motives yet.

"One should always have passion for one's work. What makes it so interesting though?"

"It's so mysterious and complicated," Olivia gushed. "The human brain is so unlike most others in its ability to have logic and imagination. The ability to remember. Most animals rely on innate instinct rather than learned behavior, did you know that?"

Elliot nodded. "Like the different parts of the brain. Injure one and cause someone's eyesight to go, while injure another and he becomes incapable of censoring his thoughts?"

"You find it interesting too!" Olivia stated happily, pleased that Elliot shared her curiosity. "Tell me a bit about physics."

"It's as weird as psychology in a way. Take motion for instance. You fire a projectile in an arc, it will eventually slow down and have zero vertical velocity at the peak when it starts to angle downward; that's due to gravity counteracting the initial acceleration. However horizontally the projectile's velocity is constant. Why is it that way?"

"Funny that that's the example you gave."

"How so?"

"Well, you do want to explore outer space."

"It's one of the last great frontiers for mankind to explore."

"And so is the mind," Olivia smiled at him, her mood vastly improved. "You know, we both have that in common, having big dreams about big ideas."

"Yeah, I guess we do." Elliot was smiling as well; she decided at that point she loved his smile. "There's a crossroads up ahead."

Olivia grabbed a map and shined her flashlight onto it. "Yep, this is it, turn right." The trip was drawing to a close, and she wasn't happy about it. "I have no idea what I'm going to do," she suddenly stated.

"Hang on, don't panic Liv. We don't know for a fact if those men saw you."

"Oh they did see me. One even shouted whore as Fin was dragging me away, asshole." She saw him tense in the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tight with suppressed anger. "El?"

"Swine. If I find out who it was I'll kick their ass for that."

She was shocked at his reaction. She wasn't even his girlfriend and he was this committed about defending her honor. "I supposed I did deserve it," Olivia said. "I was at the men's house at night."

"That's no excuse," he ground out. Olivia swore she could see a vein palpitating in the moonlight. Instinctively, she reached out and touched his forearm, feeling him relax to her touch.

"And you weren't perturbed by my use of an improper word?" she smirked at him.

"Why? Because you're a frail woman? You may be so but you also have the heart and stomach of someone strong." She chuckled at his use of Queen Elizabeth I's famous speech. "I like that about you."

She blushed, only for a dark thought to cloud her good mood once again. "What am I going to do if I get thrown out?"

"Study somewhere else I guess. That's probably what Fin is going to do."

"I don't have that luxury. I'm only here due to the Leavenworth award."

"Really?" The Leavenworth was the gold standard of all scholarships. "You really are a genius."

The blush returned with a vengeance. "Thanks. I'm in great company." She rested her hand on his knee.

Suddenly the entire atmosphere in the car shifted. It wasn't tense per se, but the easy flowing nature of the conversation did cool a bit. Looking a bit nervous for the first time, Elliot gulped. "We're close to the sea. Which road do I take?"

Olivia was suddenly nervous as well. "Um, take the third dirt track down from here."

"Could I, um, ask you a personal question?"

"You could try," Olivia said, but the comment lacked the usual Texas sassiness that she would have put into it.

"Are you in love with Fin?"

She pondered it. Her feelings for him had never been strong. "No, I enjoy his company but more like a friend." 'Not like I enjoy yours,' she thought suddenly. 'What is wrong with you Olivia,' another voice in her head scolded. 'This is Elliot Stabler, your date's best friend. He's spent the evening locking lips with the most beautiful girl on campus. He'd never go for you.' "How about you?" The question rolled off her tongue before she could stop herself.

"I'm not sure I know what love is."

"Evasive," she remarked. "Come on, you can't seriously tell me that you're not in love with Kathy?"

"For the longest time, I thought I was, or at least feeling something close to it," he answered honestly. "But recently something changed." It was said in a low whisper, but Olivia still picked up on it.

'What did he mean?' She had an idea, but didn't want to risk saying anything if it was false. 'Don't do it Olivia,' said her mother's voice in her head. 'You're incapable of being loved.'

She looked up at him, the moonlight illuminating his brown hair, hard features, and strong jaw. On anyone else it would look quite severe, but coupled with Elliot's strong heart and inner kindness it only made him more attractive. Without thinking she reached up and stroked his cheek with her thumb; his skin was warm and soft, though possessing a slight rugged quality that she found nice to the touch. "I think we're here," she murmured softly.

Elliot's head turned to meet her gaze, his eyes locked on hers. Olivia was taken aback by them; while his normal azure blue eyes were mesmerizing, in the moonlight they were now almost navy with bewilderment and… desire?

As quickly as he had turned, he looked away. "Why did you do that?" he said through gritted teeth.

Olivia didn't know why he was angry all of a sudden, but something told her that it was more at himself than her. "I don't know, it just happened."

"I shouldn't feel this way about you," he said softly as they pulled up next to the Novak house.

"What way?

"Never mind."

Her heart was palpitating at that moment. Half of Olivia wanted to run out of the car disappear inside, while the other half didn't want this moment to end. "El?" She placed her hand back on his cheek, relieved when he didn't jerk away. "What are we?"

He met her gaze once again, taking the hand not on his cheek in his. "I'm not sure Liv. Are we friends?"

Olivia didn't know who initiated it, most likely it was both of them at the same time. In a blur both of their lips met in a soft kiss, Olivia's hands wrapped around his neck and Elliot's hand tangled in her auburn locks, pulling her head close to him. It wasn't passionate, more a soft meeting of lips, but how wonderful it was. A warmth spread throughput Olivia's body, her eyelids fluttering shut from the pleasure. Grabbing his shirt with her hands, she pulled him closer and ran her tongue along his lower lip, seeking entrance that he readily gave. Both of them moaned once they came in contact, him tugging her hair closer while she rubbed her hands along the firm muscles of his chest.

"Who's out there!" a feminine voice shouted from the entranceway. Both pulled away from each other quickly, the moment broken. "You better show yourselves or you're getting a load of 12 gauge buckshot in the ass."

"That's Casey for you," said Olivia absentmindedly, rolling her eyes. Looking back at Elliot, she kissed him on the cheek. "You are the most amazing man I have ever met and I could fall in love with you in about twenty minutes. But I don't think we can be friends." He just stared back at her. "Thanks for the ride," she said sadly, exiting the car before he could respond.

Sure enough, there was Casey Novak, a double-barreled shotgun at ready in the redhead's arms. "Olivia?" she asked when she spotted her. "For Christ's sake what are you doing here?" she asked bewildered, lowering the shotgun.

She didn't respond, only looking back to the Ford which was driving away. "Oh Case," she lamented with a sigh. "I think I love that man, but I can never have him; he's dating another woman."

"You should sleep with him," her friend said flatly, her voice serious.

"Casey!" Olivia said, blushing madly.

"What? He's not married, you're not married. I can tell you want to based on your expression. It's like a love-struck teenager the first time he got laid." Olivia's blush only reddened, the implication both mortifying her and making her body hum with desire.

Casey placed a friendly hand on Olivia's shoulder. "It's like I always tell you Livvy, how will you ever get anything you want unless you go after it? Though that still didn't answer my original question Olivia."

"It's a long story."

"I'll bet," Casey said with a chuckle. "Come on in, I'll make you a mug of hot chocolate and you can tell me all about it." She pulled Olivia inside the house.

Casey was right about one thing though. Olivia was madly in love with Elliot Stabler.

**A/N: Kathy was right to be afraid. Elliot Stabler alone in a car with Olivia Benson? Well, you saw the result, LOL!**

**I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did writing it. We'll see what Elliot thinks in the next chapter.**

**Just a few historical notes. There were a massive round of labor strikes in 1946, which lead to congress passing the Taft-Hartley Act over President Truman's veto. Also there were instances of violence on both sides of labor disputes, but by the 40s and 50s it had all but disappeared. **

**Oh, and the way Olivia suggested that the US use to destroy the Soviets was how Ronald Reagan did it. He spent so much on defense the USSR bankrupted it's economy just to catch up.**

**The movie I'm referring to is Father of the Bride, the original 1950s version of the Steve Martin movie. **

**Be sure to review and check out Prey as well :)**

**God Bless.**


	6. Chapter 6: Willing Martyr

**A/N: Sorry for the delay guys. School has started and it's kicking my ass; got two classes that I wanted to put off but have finally caught up with me. On the other hand, this is my last semester and I have Fridays off, so yay!**

**The thrilling second half of the flashback is here. Everyone loved Olivia's thoughts in the last chapter and we'll see her again. However, we'll finally get to see Elliot's thoughts as well ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either SVU or US history. I'd probably be longing by the surf in Newport Beach if I owned the former though only God can own the latter ;)**

**If you guys haven't seen American Sniper, do so!**

**A special shout out to LaceNLeather24. This chapter is dedicated to her :)**

**Enjoy and Review!**

Chapter Six: Willing Martyr

Sunday, 11:45 AM, June 25th 1950; Cambridge, MA

"Elliot. Elliot." The voice seemed so far off, like a faint whisper echoing across a sunny field. "ELLIOT!"

An intense yell resonating in close proximity to his ear, Elliot shot upright, eyes wide before the rays of the sun hit them. "Argh!" he groaned, hands covering the still sensitive pupils. "God damn it Fin, it's too early."

"Early?" his friend and roomate replied with a half shocked, half bemused expression, "It's almost noon El. You've slept through breakfast and church." Fin began to laugh. "The day you choose to take my advice and cut loose, you use it to sleep of all things, ha!"

'What the fuck happened last night?' thought Elliot, mentally chiding himself for missing church. He was a devout Catholic, both from the way his parents raised him and his own spiritual beliefs. He never missed church unless it was an emergency; given that he had slept all through a Sunday morning, in his clothes no less, then it must have been important. Still foggy from sleep, his mind was a blank.

"You better get dressed Elliot," Fin told him, slipping off his boating shoes and sitting on his bed.

"Why?" asked Elliot absentmindedly, still racking his brain for answers. He had a feeling something big had gone down the night before but in his post-sleep haze it wouldn't come for the life of him.

"Kathy's waiting for you. You were planning on taking her to lunch right?"

Suddenly it all came to him, the mention of Kathy's name jogging his memory. "Oh God," he murmured as the depths of his calamity presented themselves, the memories flooding back. The movie, the broken down car, the drive to Newport, the stuff that happened on said drive.

Elliot did not love Kathy anymore; he had fallen in love with Olivia Benson. 'Shit!'

He finally looked up and saw Fin giving him a strange look. "You ok man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Elliot lied.

"Good, cause you were a lifesaver last night. You saved mine and Olivia's asses, thanks." He handed Elliot a cup of coffee which was greedily accepted.

"You'd do the same for me," Elliot replied, feeling like a grade-A asshole. "Seems we got away with it too."

Fin laughed. "Yeah, quite a streak of close calls you and I've had." A smile spread across his face. "This time was worth it though with Olivia and all. I can't believe a girl like her ever agreed to go out with me."

"Liv's a great gal, no doubt about it," Elliot replied. A pang of guilt washed over him talking about his best friend's girlfriend, but he couldn't help talking about the woman he loved. 'Loved. I'm so screwed.'

"You sure you're ok man? You seem a bit shook up."

Elliot replied a bit too fast to cover. "Just a bit sore and rumpled. I need a shower."

While letting the warm spray sooth the knots in his back, Elliot's mind was racing a mile a minute. 'How did my life get so fucked up?' he wondered, closing his eyes to compose himself. It backfired, for the images that flashed before him were of Olivia, the auburn hair, the olive skin, the beautiful smile that lit up her whole face, the dark brown pools of her eyes that he could easily get lost in…

"No, damn it!" he yelled at himself, shaking his head. This was terrible; he was dating Kathy and Olivia was dating his best friend. "I am the worst sort of heel," he wailed to no one in particular. This would be a disaster that affected their entire little group.

Toweling himself off, Elliot threw on a button down, a pair of khaki pants, and an old pair of tennis shoes, rushing out of the room to meet up with Kathy. He was still a bit haggard from the awkward sleeping position (collapsing on the bed at three AM did that to a person), but a few sore muscles were the least of his worries.

Kathy was waiting for him in the lobby right by the fireplace, which according to the dormitory's rules was the only place girls were allowed. It was obvious to him why he had earned the envious looks from many a classmate; sporting a broad-brimmed hat and stylish red and black sundress that accentuated her pale beauty, Kathy was certainly a breathtaking sight. Any day in the past the very glimpse of her would have warmed his heart, but now it had no effect, which in turn made him feel worse about himself.

"Elliot!" she called over waving, a big smile on his face that made him feel like a wretch. "You look like a little kid who didn't want to get out of bed," she chuckled, kissing his cheek. "It seems you've forgotten about our little date," she said brightly.

He laughed halfheartedly, collapsing in one of the many armchairs that were spaced across the room. "Sorry about that. Coming back from Newport took longer than I thought." Elliot looked at her carefully; she was a great woman but he did not love her. In the months they had been dating he thought he had, but then he met Olivia and found out that it had been nothing but friendly affection. Seeing her bright and cheerful made him feel ashamed at his actions. "Can we postpone? I haven't even shaved."

A flash of concern and suspicion flashed across her face. Kathy was an intelligent woman, and Elliot could tell that she wasn't buying his less than honest excuse. She managed a smile anyway. "No problem. Even Thomas Edison had his rough days. You can make it up to me later."

The smile she gave him made Elliot groan inwardly. He had to have a talk with her, let her down gently. It was what Kathy deserved from him in this fucked up situation. "Sorry you dressed up for nothing."

Kathy waved him off, smirking. "Oh it wasn't a waste. I got to see you didn't I?" She stood, looking down on him with love-filled eyes. "Anyway, one of the professors is having a party tomorrow night. I was thinking we could go."

He gave her a smile, but he knew she saw right through it. "I'm not sure I can make it, but we could met up later today if you like." Elliot had to tell her soon; as guilty as he felt he was not about to string her along. His parents had taught him better than that.

"Ok, I'll meet you outside the House at six." Pecking him on the lips, she strode away with an extra swish of her hips for his benefit, owning both the looks and the grace of a movie star. She was going to be devastated and it absolutely killed him.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Trudging upward like a condemned man walking to his execution, Elliot entered his room to an unexpected sight. Fin was sitting in his bed, head in his hands while Munch kept a friendly hand on his back in reassurance. "What's going on?" Elliot asked, a bit confused. Fin had been in such a chipper mood earlier, so this wasn't a good sign.

Both looked up to see his ashen face. "Never mind that for a moment what's up with you? You look like a guy who's been grilled by HUAC over ties to Communism for three hours," Munch asked. Fin's look of abject pain was replaced with curiosity for a moment.

Elliot wished he had been grilled by HUAC instead of the truth. However, he couldn't lie to his friends, it was dishonorable. "I have to break up with Kathy."

"Why?" Munch asked, "You two were quite an item."

"I don't love her anymore; in fact I don't think I ever did."

"We can discuss Elliot's love life later guys," Fin exclaimed, the nervous look returning. "Right now, we have to deal with the fact that I'm completely fucked!" He thrust a piece of paper into Elliot's hands. It was an official Harvard stationary.

_Dear Mr. Stabler_

_Your presence is requested in my office at 5:00 PM._

_Jack McCoy_

_Dean of Students_

When Elliot had thought before that the day couldn't get any worse he had been wrong, disastrously wrong. If the Dean of Students requested your presence in this manner then it almost always involved disciplinary action. "Did you get one too Fin?"

A pained frown on his face, Fin held up his own summons; Elliot had never seen the suave, cheerful Finlay Tutuola this petrified before, but it was warranted. Someone had likely seen a girl in the House last night and if it could be proven Fin could be expelled. "I can't get kicked out," he began ranting, nearly hyperventilating from fear. "I can't go back home to my asshole father!" Fin never said much about his parents, but Elliot had met the famed Yale Sociologist Dr. Thomas Tutuola once before at a party his parents had hosted. There was something off about him and from what he deduced he never treated his wife or son well. Watching Fin right now was like getting a glimpse into the private hell of a little boy.

"Wait a minute, there's Lenny," Munch said, heading to the door. "Lenny!" In walked Lenny Briscoe, their friend and the occupant of the room next door. "Fin and Elliot just got a letter from the Dean."

"Yeah," said the wiry Briscoe in a thick Boston Irish accent. "My roommate saw the Dean's clerk heading downstairs. Look guys, I swear to God I didn't say anything. It was probably Tucker."

"Tucker?" exclaimed Elliot. Ed Tucker was a religious zealot whose mission in life was policing the moral conduct of his fellow students. He also had a vindictive streak and a bone to pick with Fin and Elliot after they humiliated him at a party last year. "I thought he was away for the weekend?"

"Nope, changed his plans. I think I saw him last night near where you and your girl were."

"He's the one, that vindictive fuck," Fin seethed, clenching his fists. "He better hide because if I see him I'll wring his neck!" He began to fume and pace for nearly a minute before plopping onto the bed with his head in his hands.

Suddenly a thought came to Elliot. "Wait, if Tucker ratted on us he also must've ratted on Liv and Kathy. He obviously knows who our girlfriends are." This had gone from worse to catastrophic.

"That sounds like him," said Lenny.

"Could they get in trouble?" Munch asked.

Elliot thought it over. "Not Kathy. There's no proof whatsoever that she was anywhere near here. But Olivia…" Realizing this was like a knife to the gut. "She could be expelled and lose her scholarship." The thought of her being cast out of school with no prospects made his heart clench.

"Forget Olivia, what am I going to do?" Fin asked dejectedly.

"What do you mean forget Olivia?" Elliot said, shocked. "She's your girlfriend."

"Look Elliot, she's a great gal but it's not like we were going to get married or anything. I need to worry about myself right now." Elliot looked at him stunned. Fin had gotten Olivia into trouble but was more worried about his own problems than hers. He was usually a great guy but could sometimes be quite selfish, one of his major flaws.

'Well, if he's not going to help Liv then I will.' "I'll go see if Liv is back from Newport. She may not have gotten the news and I think it'll be easier said by me." With that, he hurried out of the room.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Sunday, 12:40 PM, June 25th 1950; Cambridge, MA

If there was anything to be learned from the morning's activities, the dueling stenches of vomit and disinfectant did not go well together. "There there Alex, let it out," Olivia soothed her friend, bent over a toilet bowl and puking her guts out.

"Damn morning sickness," the blonde muttered after a particular violent retch. "The baby better pray that he's cute with what he's putting me through."

"How do you know the little bugger is a boy?" asked Olivia with a smirk.

Alex smiled weakly at her, tilting her head. "A mother knows…" All of a sudden she went green and turned back to the bowl, dry heaving.

"Let it out Lex," Olivia said, holding her friend's hair back. "It's alright."

"No it's not Olivia," she replied. "Here you are with that damn note from the administration and you're comforting me? I should be comforting you."

What could she say to that? Inwardly Olivia was petrified at what could come of the disciplinary action but she wasn't good with letting people comfort her, not with her childhood. There was only one person she felt comfortable with and he belonged to someone else.

Just then a girl stuck her head inside the bathroom. "Livvie, you have a visitor, a male visitor," she told her with a grin.

"Who? Be specific."

"It's Elliot Stabler," the girl responded with a dreamy sigh.

Olivia couldn't help the dark red blush that adorned her cheeks. Noticing this, Alex gave her another weak smile and motioned for her to leave. When Olivia protested she waved the brunette off. "You have more important things to worry about. I'll be fine." Sighing, Olivia stood and headed downstairs.

She and Casey had spent most of last night talking, hitting every subject imaginable about her relationship with Elliot and the group. One thing was certain though, she was head over heels in love with the blue-eyed hunk, even if they only met a week ago. Olivia had never believed in love at first sight before but as Casey explained to her this was it (though the fact that Casey of all people was telling her about this; the redhead often boasted she fell in love at first sight once every few hours).

The Radcliffe dormitory lounge was the only place in the dorm where they could receive male visitors, so Olivia headed there and spotted him immediately. Elliot was dressed casually but was still as handsome as ever, the thick muscles of his arms and legs visible in his short-sleeves and slacks. He looked up at her and she saw his azure blue eyes were filled with concern, concern for her apparently.

Elliot's heart was breaking when he saw Olivia, her angelic face filled with fear and distress. She was wearing a light grey cashmere top and a black plaid skirt which showed off her toned legs, making her more ravishing than she had been last night. "I take it you heard," was all that came out of his mouth.

She nodded, feelings tumbling out. What was it about this man that broke down all her walls? "They sent a note for me this morning. Kathy too, but she isn't back yet." Impulsively she ran over to him and threw her arms around his waist; she knew this was inappropriate but they were friends and she needed some comfort. "What am I going to do? I'll lose my scholarship."

Her actions catching him off guard, Elliot soon recovered and wrapped his arms around her. Olivia's hair smelled like vanilla shampoo, her body perfectly fitting into his, as if they belonged. Elliot wanted to kiss her head and tell the woman he loved that everything would be alright, but he couldn't. It wasn't fair to Kathy or Fin. "I'm so sorry Liv. I wish this never happened." Elliot chided himself on the lame response but what else could he say?

Olivia pulled out of his arms, both of them feeling suddenly empty at the loss of contact. "My career is over before it began," she said with a sad smile. "I'll have to go back to Houston and work as an Oilman's secretary."

Twenty-four hours earlier Elliot had been a happy man; he had had good friends, a girlfriend, and a promising career ahead of him. Now his world was crumbling around him and he couldn't even comfort the woman he loved. 'What kind of man am I?' he thought bitterly.

With a loud shuffle a woman entered the room, causing all fifteen or so people to direct their attention to her. "Did you guys hear the news?"

"What news?" Olivia asked, Elliot too preoccupied to care.

"There's war in Korea!"

That got Elliot's attention. "What?"

"The Communists invaded South Korea just today! It's all over the news."

Someone turned on a radio in the lounge which was playing a CBS News broadcast. "…large concentrations of the Korean People's Army launched a surprise attack on the Republic of Korea in the wee hours of the morning. Reports indicate that the South Korean Army is retreating southward, their capital of Seoul in danger of falling the Kim Il Sung and the communists.

"President Truman and UN Secretary General Trygve Lie convened the UN Security Council to put forward a resolution condemning the invasion and launching an official UN intervention in the new war. With the Soviet Union boycotting the Security Council the measure is likely to pass unanimously…"

"They did it," Elliot breathed, anger rising. "Those Commie bastards actually went and did it! Damn them to hell!" He kicked at a chair.

"The measure's going to pass isn't it," Olivia stated, the sentence not even a question.

"You bet it will," Elliot growled. "You give the communists an inch and before you know it Soviet tanks will be coming up Park Avenue. If Truman has any sense he'll send the Army into Korea. We're going to war no doubt about it."

"I don't want a war," Olivia replied quietly. A war meant a draft, and a draft meant Elliot would likely be called up. "I don't want you hurt." She reached over and squeezed his hand, half expecting him to pull away.

To her relief and joy he didn't; Elliot squeezed back, flashing her a smile that made her knees go weak. "I'm so happy you feel that way Liv." He chuckled, "Things are going to hell around us and I'm happy." His gaze drifted to his watch. "I'll see you at five outside the Dean's office."

"Where are you going El?" she called after him as he exited the room.

"For a walk, I need to think."

Olivia wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She had a feeling things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Sunday, 2:30 PM, June 25th 1950; Boston, MA

To say Elliot had gone for a walk was an understatement. His mind preoccupied with other, more important things, he managed to head out of Radcliffe, out of Cambridge, across the Charles River, and all the way into Boston before he recovered his senses enough to check his surroundings. With a grumble at his absentmindedness (he had once heard a story about Thomas Edison forgetting his own name while thinking about one of his inventions, so he definitely wasn't the first intelligent person to suffer this problem), he took off on the long trek back to Harvard.

Once again he listed his problems in his head. First was the fact that he was with Kathy but had fallen madly in love with Olivia. From what Fin said it wasn't serious between him and Olivia so things should be fine but his girlfriend was a different story. Elliot was under no illusions for what Kathy felt for him; her adoring looks were exactly like Alex looked at Munch or feminine copies of how he gazed at Olivia. She was in love with him and informing her that it wasn't reciprocated, especially with their relationship going strong for over half a year, would destroy her and Elliot didn't want to do that. Kathy was a nice girl whom he really cared for and the fact that it was entirely his fault brought him shame. He had a personal code to live up to and trading one woman for another so readily was reprehensible to him. Elliot knew people like that in his life and detested them all – and here he was doing the same damn thing.

However, at the same time he knew there was no keeping the status quo. Even if he wanted to, there was no escaping the fact that he was in love with Olivia, desperately so. Elliot remembered his mother once telling him about love in the past, how love was the feeling that even a minute apart from that person left you missing a piece of yourself. That love caused you to change your behavior to what your soulmate wanted, not because they asked but because you wanted to. That love was, as Aristotle said, one soul inhabiting two bodies. After she told him all those years ago Elliot had dismissed it since every relationship he had since didn't come close to arousing those feelings. When he thought he loved Kathy he was convinced his eccentric mother was somehow crazy to believe in such nonsense. However now Elliot realized how right she had been, that in a few short days Olivia Benson turned from a stranger into his soulmate.

Much as he didn't want to hurt Kathy, the alternative was far worse. Elliot remembered his older brother Marcus, five years older than Elliot. He had always been a happy, carefree boy who took Elliot under his wing. From the beginning Marcus was the quintessential ladies' man, outgoing, charming, and one who never raised his voice (unlike Elliot who had a more reserved kind of charm and a huge temper). While the elder Stabler had many girlfriends in his teenage years, right before Marcus went off the college Elliot remembered him confiding that he had fallen in love with a girl, a lovely but working-class Italian named Constanzia from the Lower East Side. She loved him as well but Marcus knew that everyone was expecting the highly eligible son of Joseph Stabler to marry in his class, so he dumped Constanzia and began dating Dianne Westley, a scion of a wealthy Upper East side Family.

Marcus eventually had enough after a few months and told Elliot he planned to break up with Dianne during the Christmas holidays seven years before, but the girl ended up pregnant so he was forced to marry her. A year ago Elliot saw his brother again when he visited from his new job in Chicago. The couple loved and doted on their little baby girl, Elliot's niece, but he could tell they were not happy at all. The once carefree Marcus was gone and replaced with a brooding, unhappy man and it was the same with his sister in law. Elliot vowed never to let that happen to him and marry for love, and he loved Olivia.

His mind set on that issue, all that remained was Fin and Olivia's upcoming disciplinary action. He figured Fin could hire someone to claim to be the girl Tucker saw instead of Olivia (as the son of a top professor he could get away with a reprimand and probation as opposed to Olivia who had no connections), but Tucker would easily refute that. He was in a bind and every solution that came to his head wouldn't solve anything. The love of his life would be expelled and he could do nothing about it.

Something caught the corner of his eye as continued to walk through Boston. It was a large poster in front of the military recruiting station: "Semper Fi!" From what he heard on the street the UN Security council had voted unanimously to send troops to Korea, committing the US to a war to defend freedom. An idea popped into his head; there was a way to save Olivia after all.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Sunday, 4:55 PM, June 25th 1950; Cambridge, MA

Legs crossed, Kathy waited outside the Dean's office with Fin and Olivia. She was a bit nervous, though she knew she shouldn't have been. Yes, she and Elliot had broken curfew but they both had an airtight alibi and there was no proof to disprove it, unlike Fin and Olivia. The former was currently pacing up and down the waiting room, wearing a rut in the floor while the latter was sitting ramrod straight, trying to keep her composure; Kathy had to say the other girl was going a good job.

An intelligent woman, Kathy knew how much trouble they would be in if they were caught and felt bad for them both. While she had only known Olivia for a week, she didn't want her to be expelled and Fin was a close friend. What a situation the friends were in.

"Where's Elliot?" Olivia asked dejectedly, Kathy noticing a look of concern spread on her previously impassive face.

Fin checked his watch, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. "He better get here soon. The hothead's cutting it pretty close."

Just then Elliot walked in, actually more like staggered in as if he'd ran the marathon. "Elliot," Kathy exclaimed, rushing over to him. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Olivia move to do the same, only stilling herself after she stood. "What happened to you?"

Catching his breath, Elliot poured himself a cup of water from the water cooler and wiped his face with a napkin. "Took a little walk to clear my head."

"To where?" Olivia asked him, her face showing as much concern as Kathy's did. The blonde didn't like it one bit, though she bit her tongue; the girl was facing expulsion after all.

Elliot shrugged. "Boston," he said absentmindedly.

"Boston!" all three exclaimed at once. "What the hell were you doing there Elliot?" Fin enquired.

"Mr. Stabler, Mr. Tutuola, Miss Benson, and Miss Malone," the secretary chimed just then. "The dean will see you now."

"Listen up," Elliot told them quickly. "Whatever you do follow my lead," and swiftly entered before any of them could figure out what he meant by that. Kathy had a bad feeling, and by look on her face Olivia did too.

Jack McCoy was standing behind his desk; the Dean of Students was always impeccably dressed, though his fine English suits were always rumpled as if he slept in them. His face was weathered and thick mane of grey hair stuck out every which way. Behind him was the elegant, cold middle-aged Elizabeth Donnelly, his Radcliffe counterpart.

"Take a seat," McCoy said to them politely. Elliot knew this wouldn't last, since the dean had the reputation of being an angry dog with a bone with these kind of things. "Now ladies and gentlemen, you are expected to tell the truth. What happened in the House last night?"

As Elliot expected, Fin charged in, ignoring McCoy's question and diving straight in to control the proceeding. "Where's Tucker? He's the rat isn't he?"

"No one else has been asked to join us Mr. Tutuola," replied the dean.

"We have the right to confront our accuser." Elliot knew what Fin was doing; if he could get Tucker here he might be able to intimidate him into keeping his big bazoo shut. Smart, but futile.

The dean gave a sweet smile, more of a sneer than anything else. "This isn't a court of law; Miss Donnelly and I have been asked to establish the facts, and to institute disciplinary proceedings if necessary."

Elliot knew this was going nowhere; if he was going to act it would be now. "Enough of this," he said forcefully. "My friend thinks he's noble covering for the real perpetrator."

"Excuse me?" asked Donnelly, confused.

"Elliot, what are you doing?" Fin asked, equally confused.

Undaunted, Elliot threw the dice high as Caesar did at the Rubicon. "I was the one who brought a woman into the House last night."

Both Kathy and Olivia gasped, Fin staring at him in shock. What the hell was he doing?

McCoy blinked. "My information was that Mr. Tutuola was the one."

"You have been misinformed sir," Elliot responded just like his dad taught him. Joseph Stabler had been an infantry officer in WWI and taught each of his son's the same discipline the Army did.

"That's not true!" Kathy burst out. Why was Elliot martyring himself?

The look Elliot shot her made her freeze, chilling her to the bone. "I'm sorry Kathy; the records will show that Miss Malone was in the Radcliffe dormitory at the time of the incident."

Kathy shut up; the records would say that because her friends forged her signature. Elliot had thought this through down to the last letter, knowing she'd try and defend him. The only way she could do so now would ruin her alibi and get her in trouble. Now she was safe, but it was still a mystery where her boyfriend was going with this.

Stupefied by the turn of events, Fin placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Elliot, do you have any idea what…"

"Let me talk Fin," Elliot responded in his steel-like voice that silenced any conversation. "Please." Fin shrank away, confused but cowed.

"Please carry on Mr. Stabler," the dean said sarcastically. "I can't wait to see where this ends up."

"I met a young girl at a pub in downtown Boston; her name is Angela Rizzoli."

Donnelly scoffed, obviously not believing a word he was saying. "I was told that Miss Olivia Benson was the one seen with you." By the look on McCoy's face he didn't believe him either. Elliot wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"Olivia wasn't anywhere near the House last night. She was spending it with her close friend Miss Casey Novak in Newport, Rhode Island."

"The oil baron Novaks?" she asked. At Olivia's nod she continued. "Can Miss Novak confirm this?"

Olivia shot Elliot a bewildered look. 'Where is he going with this?' "Yes Miss Donnelly, she will."

Both of the women were stunned and scared for him. Was he really sacrificing himself and his career for Fin? Was he insane? Elliot valued loyalty but this was a bridge too far.

A slick grin cam on McCoy's face; the Dean had faced down far more intelligent and crafty students in his day and bested them all. Being the son of Joseph Stabler wasn't enough to save this arrogant little pup. "And I presume you can produce this… girl." He said girl like "prostitute." Both Elliot and Olivia were disgusted at this.

However, Elliot did not let it show. "Yes sir, I can."

'He thinks it's over?' Kathy asked herself. Sure, Elliot could bribe someone to say anything but Tucker would deny it was her and reiterate Olivia was the one. What was the point?

Then Elliot dropped his bombshell, a smug smirk on his face. "But I don't intend to."

Everyone stared at him. "Excuse me young man?"

"I will be leaving Harvard tomorrow."

"Elliot!" Fin exclaimed, Olivia and Kathy too stupefied to respond.

"That's all well and good Mr. Stabler," McCoy responded just as smugly. "But even if you leave your daddy's connections won't stop the investigation."

"I didn't think so, but I know something that will."

"And what could that possibly be?"

"You know the United States is going into Korea."

"Yes, I am well aware of that."

Nonchalantly, Elliot took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the dean. 'Now or never Elliot.' "This is a copy of my enlistment form into the United States Marine Corps."

"NO!" Olivia and Kathy cried simultaneously. Fin stared at Elliot wild-eyed while McCoy stood there with his mouth gaping like a fish. For once he had nothing to say to that, completely outfoxed by the young man.

"You may confirm this with the Boston recruiting office. I will be heading back to New York in the morning and shipping off for basic training by Wednesday," he said, but anything else was overkill. Elliot had ran rings around everyone with his plan. In times like this the University couldn't proceed with any actions against a young man fighting for his country, especially the son of Joseph Stabler. The patriarch of the Stabler clan not only was friends with the President of the University but with important public figures such as Senator Joseph McCarthy and former General Dwight D. Eisenhower; going after the man's soldier son would be suicide. There would be no investigation on the Harvard end, then Olivia was safe.

Through the fear for Elliot's life that clouded her, Kathy realized something. Elliot was exposing himself to a possible death on the battlefield to save Olivia. Donnelly would likely ask for the friend's testimony but there was no doubt she'd lie for Olivia. The key point was that Radcliffe couldn't expect Olivia to produce this Angela Rizzoli.

All four of them filed out of the room, the two officials having dismissed them with anger on their faces; they had been outfoxed by Elliot and they knew it. As soon as the door was closed Olivia flung herself in Elliot's arms, crying. "Don't go Elliot, you could die!" She also knew what he did and what it meant and was filled with guilt, worry, and love for him. She didn't care about the impropriety, this could be the last time she saw him alive.

"Don't worry Liv," he soothed, rubbing calming circles on her back lovingly. "I'll be fine."

"You saved my life man," Fin told him after he released Olivia. "I'll never forget this Elliot." He threw his arms around Elliot in a manly hug. "Never."

Kathy stood silently as Olivia embraced him again, Elliot returning it. The look Elliot was giving the brunette he had never given her. It was a look of pure, selfless love. She had lost him forever and she knew it.

Soon, it was just the two of them. Elliot looked at his former girlfriend, ashamed at himself. "Kathy I…"

He didn't get to finish as her hand made contact with his cheek. "You fucking bastard," she ground out, holding back tears.

Elliot looked at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry, I really am."

He looked at her again and Kathy knew he meant it; somehow though that fact hurt most of all. "Goodbye Elliot," she said stoically and left.

Twenty-four hours ago Elliot had been a man with a bright future, a promising career, wonderful friends, and a beautiful girlfriend. Now he was about to go off to war, face down thousands of savage communists, and stand a good chance of coming back in a wooden box. Closing his eyes, a picture of Olivia's smiling face flashed in front of him; at that point if he had the chance to go back he'd do it all over again.

**A/N: Well there you go! The last of the college flashback chapters. Let's give a round of applause for Elliot everyone.**

**Next time we go back to 1969 and see how things are unfolding. Stay tuned.**

**A historical note, the Korean War did begin on Jun 25****th****, 1950 when the KPA invaded the South. The same day the UN Security Council unanimously condemned the invasion and voted to send a coalition to fight the invasion. While the Soviets could have vetoed it, they had boycotted the Security Council due to procedural disagreements and an order by Stalin.**

**Please review, and don't forget to check out Prey and my new one shot series :)**

**God Bless**


	7. Chapter 7: Wardrobes

**Updated (2/7/2014): Hi everyone, sorry for the repost but as you all know the site crashed. Just making sure you guys know that everything is fine and to enjoy the story :)**

**A/N: Happy Friday guys. Hope things are going well with all of you.**

**And the flashback has ended and we're back to 1969. Elliot has a plan and is putting it in motion while Fin tries desperately to stop him. Also, we finally get to see what Kathy's been up to down in Florida…**

**What do you mean booo? Oh right, you want to see Olivia. Well hate to disappoint… ok, the throwing things is not cool. She'll appear in the next chapter I promise.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either SVU or US history. I'd probably be longing by the surf in Newport Beach if I owned the former though only God can own the latter ;)**

**A prayer for the Coalition forces fighting the brutal ISIS monsters. If there is any justice in the world these barbarians will rot in hell alongside Bin Laden, Saddam, and Yasser Arafat.**

**Enjoy and Review!**

Chapter Seven: Wardrobes

11:00 AM, July 13th 1969; New York City, New York

"Damn it Tutuola! I can't have my best man in New York on a wild goose chase!"

"I understand sir; I have the reports from the Phoenix Program with me right now and are reviewing them, but this operation is absolutely vital to our national interest."

"That's what Lake says, but your immediate boss says different." Fin slammed his fist on the table. 'Damn Jake Featherston, that racist motherfucker.' The Phoenix Program, the identification and neutralization of Viet Cong guerillas in the Mekong Delta, could run on its own by the competent local commanders that Fin had himself selected. It didn't need the command oversight that was common with the previous Johnson administration. "Something better pan out from this Tutuola," the director said, the phone clicking off.

Fin's head collapsed onto the desk in the conference room at One Police Plaza racking his brain for what the hell had gone wrong. After reaming out his surveillance teams for nearly ten straight minutes he ordered a full mobilization to search for Elliot, combing every place in the city where he could conceivably go. Everyone was sent apart from Brian Cassidy, who was coordinating things here.

In front of Fin were several files of strange cases. Figuring Elliot might get into trouble with the law, he had approached the NYPD officials for help in the investigation, help that was readily given. The NYPD was gleeful at helping the CIA, excited for a chance to play James Bond.

As with any big city police department, the NYPD precincts kept running into strange criminals and bizarre crimes: a gorgeous woman pickpocket in Times Square who turned out to be a man; a LSD sniffing hippie trying to free an Eagle at the Central Park Zoo; an asshole trying to suffocate his wife with a pizza with extra cheese; a fender bender and a loose truck latch blocking traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge with an avalanche of Kotex… the list went on and on. The only thing that he knew could be Elliot was the assault of a police officer in the morning by a bum, but that was hours ago and told him nothing.

They were a high stakes game of chess, trying to plan out the moves three steps ahead of a living, breathing, calculating mind on the other side. How could he have underestimated Elliot Stabler? 'Because he has no idea of who he is!' a voice yelled in his head. Granted, the mind-wiped Stabler was much less of a threat, but the man was still the expert with a 154 IQ, tied with his wife and higher than any of their former group except for Olivia, with one at 161 (a fact that was brought up constantly by the brunette back in the day). This should have been anticipated but he let his hubris get to him.

Could he have skipped town? Fin dismissed the thought immediately. For one thing Elliot probably had no recollection of New York itself, forget the cities surrounding the Big Apple. His old friend did have a mother living in the Hamptons and a sister in Westchester but with the memory loss Elliot had no way of knowing that. He was most likely staying put, so Fin had the agents under his command retrace Elliot's steps from where he lost the last surveillance team.

As he mused, Cassidy came bursting in the room. "Sir, I think we've got something!" The man may have been a pig and an irritable jackass but he was competent and loyal to a fault.

"Well don't just stand there Cassidy, tell me!" Fin roared, not in the mood for cheap pleasantries.

"Biggs was just a block away from Grand Central when he thinks he spotted a man matching Stabler's description in a Ford heading towards it."

"Son of a bitch," Fin breathed, thinking. Of course Elliot would head back to the place he thought it began; best place to find answers was the source. "Ok, get the backup team and head over to the station yourself! Stay out of sight but don't lose him again!" Cassidy nodded and ran out. Fin plopped in the chair, hoping this would work.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

11:15 AM, July 13th 1969; New York City, New York

Grand Central Station, where his day had begun. Elliot was nervous to say the least, and not just because of the fat official and the transit cops he had evaded only hours ago (they were likely gone with a shift change anyway). He had lost his shadows nearly an hour before and found himself checking surreptitiously behind him every few minutes, increasingly paranoid. Elliot just couldn't shake the feeling that whomever was following him would be back in force, and that thought scared him to his very core. 'Who the hell were they?' was the question that always came back to mind, and his instincts were screaming of their obvious malevolence. Why else would they be shadowing him?

Elliot shook his head, trying to focus. Baseless speculation would get him nowhere, he needed facts. However, Gladys' advice came to mind. What policeman, or any person for that matter, would be patient enough to listen to a bum no matter how intelligent or educated he sounded. He'd be more likely to be tossed in prison or a mental hospital, forced to endure days or weeks of being trapped not knowing who he was; the past few hours of doing so had been hell in and of itself.

Ridding his mind of the frightening thoughts, Elliot entered the massive front doors of Grand Central. Before he could get answers he needed a set of clothes that weren't soiled, a shower and shave, and money in greater denominations than dimes and quarters. He had his work cut out for him.

The station, unlike when he had last been here, was packed with commuters going about their daily business in America's largest city. He lifted up the collar of his jacket, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, like he was a laborer in ripped work clothes rather than a hobo. Elliot spotted people of every different size and shape: working class ethnics, striped pants executives and traders, middle-aged matrons, young mothers with their children…

His eyes widened at the sight near one of the staircases. There were two men, one reading a paper while the other held a cup of coffee in his hand, scanning the crowd. They were dressed casually, like a stockbroker or banker, but their attitude said different. They held a sort of determined air about them, their backs straight, eyes peeled, and taking in everything except the train schedules (the only people in the station not interested in travel). They had to be following him.

'Calm down Elliot,' he cautioned himself. They could be here for any reason; why was he being so jumpy? His instincts though were telling him they were no good, and they hadn't steered him wrong before. Whomever he was had to be one of the most interesting people in the US.

A part of him wanted to approach them, a part that desired human contact with someone who knew him. Elliot wished with all his heart for someone to say "Hey Elliot! How's it going?"

Not fucking likely with these two. They'd probably say, "FBI, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…" and so on and so forth.

Musing over his instincts, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as something caught to corner of his eye. Looking to the side he paled, the blood draining from his face. There, walking inside the station was Brian. Sure, he was clean-shaven and dressed similarly to the agents downstairs but that was the same guy he woke up with in the bathroom no doubt about it. "Shit," he breathed, ducking into a small store inside Grand Central, grabbing a copy of the _New York Times _and covering his face as the man passed by. The headline read:

**Apollo 11 Ready to Go!**

**Nixon says it's a great victory for the USA.**

"You have to pay for that." Elliot looked at the clerk, who was glaring at him with a miffed expression. Elliot shrugged, walking to the counter and paying for the paper, the clerk surprised he actually had money.

He headed back to the door to the shop, looking out for Brian. Luckily for him the other man had rendezvoused with the other two men. So his instincts had been right again.

He needed clothes and money, which meant robbing someone in full daylight. While difficult to do in any circumstance, Brian and his two goons would complicate it further. The best opportunity would be when the express from Chicago arrived in a few minutes per the schedule. The arrival from a large city like that would bring a large crowd which even he could disappear into, away from the suspicious eyes of transit cops and his followers.

The train arrived on time two minutes later, Grand Station filling with passengers from the Windy City and the gate crowding as a traffic jam formed. Being a Monday, there were few tourists or families, most of the crowd being military or business types; Elliot kept a lookout for a man of his size and build carrying just the right type of bag. 'Too big, too fat, much too short…' There were several his age but were either travelling light or too heavy. His gaze settled on a businessman with his size and general build in a charcoal black suit and wide brimmed cap. He carried a tan carry-on bag that was big enough to carry a spare suit and small enough to be wieldy. The man was in a hurry, constantly checking his watch and not paying attention to much around him. 'Perfect.'

Scanning the concourse, he spotted Brian and the other men across the massive lobby but they weren't paying this direction any attention. If a better chance was forthcoming Elliot didn't see it, so he stepped into the crowd and inconspicuously made his way to the man, soon directly behind him.

The throng of people was dense, moving slowly forward, inch by inch. The man seemed annoyed and harried, moving in stops and starts, cursing under his breath every five seconds not at all noticing Elliot. A gap opened up which the businessman took advantage of.

That was when Elliot tripped him.

It was done smoothly, no one noticing his foot hooking the man's ankle, everything pointing to the man tripping over his feet. He fell forward with a grunt and a curse, holding his hands in front of him and falling on a woman in front of him, both ending up in a heap on the ground. The crowd parted as good Samaritans began to assist the two; seizing his chance, Elliot picked up the bag which had been dropped a foot away from his feet and hurried toward the exit, not bothering to look behind him. The time for caution was out the window, speed being far greater an asset.

Jinking and weaving through the crowd, Elliot tried to keep himself as calm as possible to avoid any unwanted attention. His instincts were barking rules at him: 'Look like you belong there and people will assume you do.' He tried it as best he could and found it worked; no one bothered him, no shouts or sounds of pursuit behind him. That didn't mean the target he felt acutely on his back would go away soon.

Reaching the exit, he glanced over his shoulder to where the same spot. The crowd was milling around it but the man and the lady he fell on weren't anywhere to be seen. Instead however, right there was Brian, a panicked look on his face while he furiously scanned the station. Elliot smirked just as their eyes met; feeling cocky, he threw the other man a wink and a middle finger salute, running out through the doors.

"Bad idea Elliot," he scolded himself, running onto the sidewalk. While part of him felt smug taunting that duplicitous motherfucker, it just opened up a whole new can of worms. He had to get out of there fast, but how?

The idea came to him in a heartbeat. "Taxi!" he shouted to an idle cab. The cabbie, a squat Greek, nodded as Elliot jumped in the backseat, giving directions to his parked car a few blocks away. The cabbie shrugged, money being money to him.

Looking out the back window as the cab pulled away, Elliot caught Brian looking furious, shouting something obscene by the looks of it and stomping on his hat. "Stupid asshole," he muttered with a grin, clutching the bag in his hands. Things were now looking up.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

12:00 PM, July 13th 1969; Kennedy Space Center, Florida

Canaveral was abuzz with activity, the countdown tentatively scheduled for X minus 2940 minutes for 1:00 PM on the 15th of July.

The NASA technicians and their Army handlers were on edge, both excited and nervous at the history they'd be making in just two short days. Since the dawn of the human race people have wanted to explore other worlds, to escape the surely bonds of earth and touch the face of God. Driven to the brink over the last decade in a Space Race with the Soviets, the men and women of the Apollo program were ready to fulfill their dreams and the hopes the American people had put on them.

Kathy Stabler shared that sentiment. A veteran of the space program since the Gemini program half a decade earlier, nothing could compare to being able to send three men to the moon, two of which would land on the celestial body. It was exhilarating in a way.

The massive Saturn V rocket, the largest ever built by man at nearly 138 feet in height, was ready on Launch Pad 39A, ready to go when the order was given. However, things could go wrong in an instant, unforeseen problems developing or weather conditions changing. The engineers were at work constantly addressing these problems, tweaking the rocket or putting in improvisations to cure design flaws (duct tape was constantly being brought it). Though the team had launched a Saturn Rocket before, this was the first mission to the moon and orders from the White House were to take no risks.

That's where Kathy fit in. While technically a secretary by title and pay, her real job was to prepare and maintain the launch timetable. The job took her across the facility and back, sometimes many times over, staying in touch with every group on the team and memorizing as much detail as possible. When there was a hitch, she was the first to know; when there was a delay, she was the one to inform Gene of the problem (Gene Kranz was the flight director and her immediate boss; he was back at Houston where she and Elliot were normally based but all the action now was here due to the launch). It required all of her scientific knowledge and she loved it, despite the lower pay. Many of her Radcliffe classmates were still taking dictation from men in grey flannel suits in New York or Chicago so Kathy didn't complain.

Her noon update ready, having travelled to the launch gantry and back for the latest on the rocket's status, she stepped out of the jeep and smoothened her skirt, heading for the command center. A vast majority of the Apollo Program were male, so naturally many gave her a look over. Kathy knew she was drop-dead gorgeous with her tall, peaches and cream complexion, flaxen blonde hair, and lithe figure. However, there was a certain formidable air about her – the determined stride in her step, the straight posture, or the dangerous glint in her green eyes. Couple that with the fact she was married to Elliot Stabler, know hothead, kept the advances to mere looks and maybe a smirk here and there.

"Hey Kath!" shouted Hans Muller, known as Hank by everyone here. He had been one of the German scientists brought over by Werner von Braun back in 1945 when the Third Reich fell at a young age. Now, part of the team that designed the second stage of the Saturn V, he was approaching sixty with a thick thatch of grey hair but with the exuberance of a far younger man. "One hundred thirty five."

Kathy grinned; Hank was her friend, and whenever they saw each other they played this little game; one of them would give the other a number and they'd have to guess what was unusual about it. "Too easy Hank. Take the first digit, add the square of the second digit, plus the cube of the third and you get 135 all over again. You must be losing your touch in your old age," she replied with a smirk.

"What are you talking about _Mädchen_? I am only forty-five." He laughed and gave her a dime, the prize for winning.

Laughing, Kathy eyed him coyly. "I'll give you a chance to win it back, 136?"

"Hmm," he furrowed his brows in concentration. "Ah, sum the cubes of the digits and you get 244; do the same and you're back to 136."

"Correct Mr. Forty Five," Kathy quipped, tossing him back the dime. Neither of them had ever netted any money in this game.

Taking leave, the blonde headed back into the Headquarters Building, worried despite the formal air she had. Kathy worried about Elliot, her husband and the man she loved desperately. If it weren't for her job she'd have been in her office calling Fin every five minutes or so. That would have been stupid though; he'd contact her in the event of a problem, she kept telling herself.

Entering the control room, she spotted Willy Fredrickson, the launch coordinator, talking with Brig. Gen. Don Cragen, the Manned Space Flight Program Controller, and the soon to be most famous people on earth, the Apollo 11 team Michael Collins, Neil Armstrong, and Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin. "Oh Kathy, you have the reports?" Cragen asked, motioning her to come over. He was an older man in his late-fifties and a close friend of her and Elliot, well mostly Elliot. He always said the old man was like a mentor to him.

Handing them the reports, Willy beamed at her. "You are 22 carat gold Kath!" Cragen and the astronauts smiled at her.

"Thanks Willy, so what do we have here?"

The smile turned into a frown. "I'm not sure yet. There's a possible 176 knot jet stream that might delay the launch. It's been moving steadily south and might get here by launch date."

"Shit," muttered Kathy, knowing what that meant; the launch might be delayed a day or two.

After deciding to monitor the stream and send up a few weather balloons for early warning, the meeting was dismissed. Figuring the news was a perfect excuse to call Fin, Kathy hurried to her office and locked the door, dialing the number.

"Tutuola," he answered.

"The launch might be delayed a day due to the weather," she told him.

"I didn't know there was a wind."

"There's a jet stream, might prove dangerous for the rocket. How's Elliot?"

"Let me know about the launch."

"How's Elliot," she replied forcefully, knowing he was hiding something.

Kathy heard a sigh and a muffled curse through the line. "Well, we have a problem there."

"How so?" she asked, a pit of ice forming in her gut.

"We've lost him, twice," he added quickly.

"What!"

"He gave my men the slip."

"Motherfucker," Kathy breathed, going pale. "Now we're in trouble."

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

12:30 PM, July 13th 1969; Queens, New York

Little Neck, Queens was a leafy suburb within the city limits, a rarity for NYC. Elliot wasn't complaining though; after paying the cabbie and getting in his own car, Elliot drove out to Long Island to find a boring, residential neighborhood. The city had been teeming with the hustle and bustle of urban life, and safely within his car Elliot could finally appreciate it. The bustle seemed familiar to him, and so did the roads leading out of the city. It must have been his hometown and that excited him. The outer suburbs were less familiar but he preferred it to the city, feeling envious of the kinds of people that lived here, men with families and children. He wondered what that meant.

The area was middle class in nature, which was perfect; there wouldn't be much hired help so the houses would likely be empty. Turning a corner, Elliot parked the Ford facing the direction he came and stepped out carrying the bag. He needed to get into one of the houses so he could shower and change. That would require a chisel or a screwdriver, which might be in a tool bag in the trunk. Which was likely locked.

Reaching into the stolen bag, Elliot rifled through it and found a document paper-clipped together. He removed the paperclip, perfect for picking locks. The fact he would know how to pick locks was not lost on him, but he shrugged it off. Compared to speaking fluent Korean and being able to lose a tail, lock picking seemed rather mundane.

Tweaking the clip inside the lock, it took Elliot about 30 seconds to open the trunk. Inside was the sort of things one would find, a throw blanket, a shopping bag, a jack, and a small toolkit. "Yes," he pumped his hand in the air, looking inside to find a phillips head screwdriver and a small wrench with a large head that could serve as a hammer. Stuffing them into his jacket pocket, he took the bag and calmly walked down the street. He needed to find an empty house quickly, since a bum was not a common sight in a neighborhood like this.

Martha Ross might have been old but her mind was still sharp as ever. Sitting by the window and watching the neighborhood, her favorite pastime since her husband had died and her son rarely visited these days, she spotted a nice blue-white Ford drive by. It was an unfamiliar one, so she wondered who owned it. They didn't get many strangers here in Little Neck; maybe the Coopermans got a new one, or Henry Reagan's teenage son perhaps.

All of the musing turned out to be mute when a stranger walked onto the sidewalk across the street from Mrs. Ross' house. And this man put strange in the word. No hat, tattered clothes, battered shoes. A bum most likely, but why was he carrying a newish bag. Odd.

He first went to Mrs. Reagan's door and knocked; Mrs. Ross smirked, the housewife was the spouse of a major figure in the NYPD and was tough as nails. She would make short work of the bum. Sure enough, the woman shooed him away and the man headed to the next house, getting the same treatment.

When getting to the James residence the young mother opened the door and Mrs. Ross saw her give the man a dollar bill. So he was a beggar. "Lousy scum," she muttered under her breath. What was one of them doing in this part of town?

The owner of the next house, Mr. Bonetti, was at work and Mrs. Ross knew his pregnant wife Angelina was out with a friend. The bum would get no answer there.

After knocking a few times, Elliot figured no one was home. 'Time to get to work.' Kneeling, he inspected the door, same as all the others on the block. It had a Yale lock, the kind with a tongue on the door side and a metal socket in the jamb. The lock was operated by a key from the outside and a knob from the inside.

Each door had a small window to either side at head height. It would be easiest to break the glass and open the lock from inside but that would be visible from the street. He'd have to use the screwdriver.

Glancing up, Elliot scanned the street for passersby or curious homeowners. Having had to knock on several houses before finding an empty one, he might have attracted attention, but there was no one. He had to do this fast, having no choice but accept the risk.

Mrs. Ross turned away from the window and rose, heading to the phone on the other side of the room. Picking up the handset, she began to slowly dial the number of the local police precinct, one she knew by heart.

Elliot inserted the tip of the screwdriver between the door and the jamb at the level of the lock. He then struck the handle of the tool with the heavy end of the wrench, trying to force the tip into the socket of the lock. The first blow was a negative impact, Elliot wiggling the screwdriver afterwards to find a way in. He struck it again, nothing. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, the hot weather getting to him. "Calm Elliot, don't panic," he said softly to himself. "You've done this before." Where? He had no idea, but he was sure the technique worked.

Wriggling the tool again, he felt the corner of the tip catch a notch in the lock. He brought the wrench down as hard as he could, driving the screwdriver in an inch. Heart thumping, he pulled on the handle, levering the tongue of the lock back out of the socket. Breathing out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, Elliot grinned as the door opened.

Upon reassuring himself that the damage could not be seen from the street. Elliot grabbed the bag and rushed in, eager to get out of his clothes and take a shower.

When Mrs. Ross finished dialing she returned to the window to see the stranger, but he wasn't there.

That was quick.

Confused, she hung up without speaking. Who was he? Why did he stop his panhandling? The old woman smiled, happy for something to occupy her thoughts all day.

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12:50 PM, July 13th 1969; Queens, New York

The house was of modest size, the décor and furnishings just screaming middle-class professional. There were no children's possessions strewn about, so the couple that lived here must have been young. Elliot picked up a letter on the duvet addressed to a Mr. and Mrs. R.J. Bonetti and immediately felt a pang of guild; he felt bad breaking into a young couple's house, but he had to do what he had to do and wasn't going to really do any harm. He could live with the guilt for now. They were both probably out for the day at their jobs but he could not count on that fact.

Elliot hurried to the upstairs bedroom and threw the bag on the bed. Inside he found the motherlode, a conservative Brooks Brother's black chalk-stripe suit, a white shirt, a red/navy striped tie, dark socks, clean underwear, and a pair of black wingtip shoes only a half size too big. Eager to get into the clean clothes and look like a real man again, Elliot stripped to of the filthy clothes and headed into the adjoining bathroom. While it felt creepy to be naked in a stranger's home, one whiff of his stench told him the shower was necessary.

After scrubbing the filth off of him and wrapping a pink towel belonging to Mrs. Bonetti (a wedding present most likely), Elliot decided to shave off the stubble. Mr. Bonetti had an electric razor, but Elliot preferred a blade; he found one with shaving cream in a small travel kit in the bag, grinning at his sudden upswing of good luck. He went back to the bathroom, lathered his face in front of the mirror, and shaved quickly, spritzing his face with some sandalwood cologne he found in the cabinet. Returning to the bag, he donned the clothes, which all fitted perfectly, and even found a billfold of 200 dollars in twenties – emergency money. He pocketed the cash, seeing the man had an address in Hyde Park Chicago, the ritzy part of town; he was likely here in New York on business for a bank most likely. Elliot made a vow, resolving to pay the man back one day; after all, he wasn't a defector.

He furrowed his brows at the thought. 'What the hell did that mean?' Yet another mystery.

Gazing at himself on the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door, Elliot was shocked at the change since he last did so in the mirror at Grand Central. The man in front of him bore no resemblance to the filthy hobo; the man in the mirror was a fit man in his late thirties with blue eyes and close cropped dark brown hair: a normal person looking harassed. He smiled shakily, relieved. Now, what did a guy like this do for a living? His hands felt soft, so no manual labor, and he looked relaxed and comfortable in the clothes. Not a cop definitely. Walking to the closes, he grabbed a felt hat belonging to Mr. Bonetti, knowing he'd be conspicuous without one.

Just then, he heard noise downstairs, freezing. Elliot craned his neck, listening.

"What happened to my front door?" came the voice of a young woman.

"Looks like someone tried to break in," said another, similar voice. Elliot cursed under his breath; he'd taken too long. He had to get out of there. "You should call the police."

"I don't think so. Nothing's been touched. He must not have gotten in."

"We should check the upstairs."

"Aren't you scared?"

He heard a nervous giggle. "Yeah, but it would be silly if we called the cops and no one was home."

"True."

Quickly and with adept skill, Elliot crossed over to a spare bedroom, hiding behind the door as Mrs. Bonetti and the other woman walked up and made their way to the master bedroom. He cringed at the small scream the women let out. "Whose bag is that?"

"I've never seen it before. And those clothes… ech!"

Elliot took his chance and left the bedroom, making a beeline for the stairs. He tiptoed down the steps, grateful for the carpet.

"What kind of burglar brings luggage?"

"I don't know, but I'm calling the cops right now."

Stepping out of the house, Elliot closed the front door silently, smiling. He had done it.

Mrs. Ross frowned at the sight, mystified. The man coming out of the house had on Mr. Bonetti's grey hat on, but he looked more buff than the young stockbroker. She watched him walk briskly down the street and turn the corner. A minute later, the blue and white Ford she had seen earlier raced out of there, going much too fast. 'It's the beggar!' she realized. He must have broken in and stolen Mr. Bonetti's clothes. As the car passed, she read the license plate and picked up the phone.

**A/N: So now Elliot's got good clothes, money, and a vehicle. Things are looking up for him.**

**What's going on with Fin and Kathy though? What do they want with tracking Elliot? Why did he lose his memory? How does it tie in to the launch? Stay tuned for more answers, or more questions, in the next update of Countdown ;)**

**Just to let you know, I have no idea what weather conditions were like on July 16****th****, 1969 when Apollo 11 launched. However, what I do know is that these things do matter when launching rockets. Gene Kranz was the real Flight Director and many scientists in the space program were former rocket scientists for Nazi Germany during WWII who defected.**

**Just of being patient with me, I will tell you guys that Elliot will meet Olivia again in chapter 10 :)**

**If you review I'll send a sneak peek for chapter 8.**

**God Bless.**


	8. Author's Message

**Hey guys. No, this isn't an update; sorry to those who think it was.**

**Please don't review this chapter, because it's not a chapter. **

**The reason I'm posting this message on all my stories is that something has come up. As I've said this is my last semester at college and I am excited. However, thinking things were going to be a walk in the park I went in a bit unprepared and am now swamped (stupid me, I know, duh). **

**Anyway, I have two big exams coming up so that'll be taking up much of my time. Therefore, the promised updates of Prey and Countdown will be delayed one week until the exams have passed and the situation I've found myself in will have settled down. Sorry for the inconvenience. **

**If I find some time in the jumble, I will try to publish the next chapter of my one shot series. They are much shorter than Prey and Countdown and will provide a little practice to flex my muscles if I can.**

**So that's it. If you guys have any requests for me regarding one of the stories don't hesitate to PM me and I'll see if I can fit them in. Wouldn't want to deny the readers what they want after all. Also, if you just want to talk, I'm always free :)**

**For those of you who haven't, please don't forget to review chapters 23 & 24 of Prey, chapter 7 of Countdown, and check out my new series of one shots, The Way It Should Have Been. I'd love any feedback, positive and/or negative, plus I will send a sneak peek of the next chapter if you do :)**

**For those of you who are guest readers feel free to drop a review. I welcome all feedback.**

**Also (last thing I promise). If you would like me to read a story of yours, I'm always looking for great EO ;)**

**So, thanks for reading this, and don't worry. I shall return. Hope you enjoy our week, and have a happy Valentine's Day.**

**God Bless**

**The Congressman**


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